Whoever Katrina is
by Xanrivash
Summary: ...She's messed us up royally. When Axel and Demyx were first sent to New Orleans, they had no idea just how wrong a mission could go.  Rated for some bad language, some violence in later chapters.  All pairings are friendship only.
1. Prologue: It's called New Orleans

"Smile at me like that again and I swear I will end you."

Demyx smiled anyway, far more innocently than a Nobody should be able to. "What? What's your problem? I told you this is going to be a fun mission!"

Axel sighed. "First, I don't think there's any such thing as a 'fun' mission. Second, the more you look forward to a shared mission, the less I should look forward to it. I got that memorized a long time ago."

"Do you ever 'remember' or 'learn' anything? You've always 'got it memorized'! You're really hot on that phrase, aren't you? The heartless romance of the century, Axel and 'Got it memorized?' -"

Axel gritted his teeth. "Demyx?"

"Yeah?"

"'Run! Run away!'" Axel deliberately made his voice higher, almost squeaky, and jumped at Demyx with an expression he figured was a pretty good imitation of terror. Demyx started involuntarily before recovering himself and glaring daggers at the redhead.

"That wasn't funny. Not even once."

"Heh, my catchphrase kicks your catchphrase's butt and you're jealous." Now Axel was the one smiling, though he certainly didn't look innocent.

"It's not a catchphrase!" Demyx insisted indignantly.

"It's what you yell whenever there's a chance of a fight, doesn't that make it a catchphrase? What world are we going to this time, anyhow?"

"What, you mean you haven't got it memorized yet?" Demyx rushed on before Axel could protest. "It's called New Orleans. I've been there before, on a scouting mission, and it's fantastic - just fantastic. I'd have stayed there forever if I could. I love that place."

"You c-"

Demyx continued blithely, ignoring Axel's sputtering. "If it's possible for a world to have a heart made of pure music, New Orleans does. Does that sound crazy to you?"

"Demyx..._every word that comes out of your mouth_ sounds crazy to me, got it memorized?" Axel ignored the musician's wounded look with practiced ease. "Does the place at least have good food?"

Demyx nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah! The best!"

"Then this might not be a complete waste. It's not like the mission's going to succeed with you along." Satisfied that he'd put the lesser Nobody in his place, Axel gestured, and a dark portal opened to their destination. "After you."

"You're my Superior. You should go first." Damn, but Demyx's hurt look was convincing.

Axel strode towards the portal, muttering all the way. "The Superior must hate me, making me go on missions like this...sure you already know your way around, you can barely remember HOLY SH-!"

Every muscle in Demyx's body had gone tense when Axel screamed. _He's already through - something on the other side..._ He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, closed his eyes - and followed him.

* * *

In the next chapter: Stuff happens.

The one and only Author's Note, including a spoiler for the next chapter:

This came to me in a dream. I had a vision of Axel and Demyx huddled on the roof of a house in rising floodwaters; Axel was freaking out and Demyx was trying to calm him down while still playing his sitar. Where are they? Why is it flooding? Why, they must be in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina. What are they doing in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina? Well, they must have been sent there on a mission, and had utterly piss-poor luck as far as timing was concerned.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts and all its characters belong to Square Enix and Disney. If you think a poor college student might own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. If I did, I'd never worry about tuition costs again. I'd be rollin' in it!


	2. Chapter 1: Cue Hell, as High Water

Demyx found himself halfway up a tree. Normally, this would have been unfortunate, but right now, he was blessing his luck, because not three feet below him was a raging, churning torrent of the _nastiest_ water he'd ever encountered. The rain was pounding down like knives, and worst of all, a vicious, howling wind threatened to tear his clothes from his body and him from his perch. He clung tighter to the trunk of the tree, hoping all the while it wouldn't simply blow down, and looked around.

"Axel?" His voice was lost in the howl and crash of this horrible storm. _If he went into the water...he hates water...and even _I _don't like this water... _ "Axel!" he called again, louder this time. He could still barely hear his own voice. He couldn't see much of anything, besides what was lit up by occasional flashes of lightning. Demyx clutched the tree even tighter, reluctant to summon his weapon for fear of losing his grip.

_My stomach's tied in a knot, it's like I can barely breathe...I think I'm going to die, but I really, really don't want to...I wish I was anywhere else but here...I wish I could do anything useful besides hang onto this tree...I wish I knew where Axel was and if he was all right, even if he did say I was crazy and I'd probably fail this mission - no chance we'll succeed now anyway - but I think I'm never going to see him again..._

_From what I remember...this must be what real fear is like..._

_And I could just portal back, and say "Sorry, Superior, but we got dropped in the middle of this incredible storm, there's no way we could have succeeded," and at least I'd be safe...but I don't want to see Roxas's face when I tell him Axel's not coming back._

_If there are any gods that look after Nobodies...help me?_

Demyx slowly slid around to the more sheltered side of the tree, hoping against hope he wouldn't lose his grip and simply be blown away, and found a vaguely secure position, albeit far less secure than he would have liked, facing away from the trunk. Pausing to catch his breath, he summoned his sitar. Now that his precious instrument was in his hands, he 'felt' safer. He plucked a few strings, but couldn't hear the sound over the storm. After a breathless moment in which he thought he'd played the wrong notes without realizing it, the water beneath him slowly rose up into a pair of humanoid forms, the same murky brown as the flood they came from.

Demyx looked up at his water clones. "Take me somewhere a little safer..."

He flinched as they picked him up and carried him down into the water. He could tell it was incredibly foul and polluted just from touching it, and if he'd had the time, ambition, and powers of concentration, he might have tried to purify it somewhat. For now, he just clung to his sitar as his water clones carried him across the torrent to somewhere 'safer'. He realized a bit late that he wasn't sure what they considered 'safe'. _It better not be underwater..._

Fortunately, they set him down on the roof of a house, where he could be partly sheltered from the wind by a sturdy brick chimney. _Hopefully the wind's not so strong it'll blow the chimney off...Wait. How could they...?_ He looked over. The disgusting water was nearly up to the roofline. If there was anyone still in that house, they were nothing but a drowned corpse by now.

_So that's how they got me up here._ Demyx gulped and looked at his water clones, who were standing obediently and waiting for his command. Pressing himself against the chimney to make the most of what shelter it offered, he started playing his sitar again. More and more of the murky clones started rising out of the water, paying no attention to the fact that the water was rushing fast enough to drown an incautious merman. He kept playing for as long as he thought he could get away with - he'd need all the help he could get.

_Thirty-eight...forty. I can't wait any longer. This has to be enough._ He changed his tune as the water clones started moving away, out into the darkness of the storm, ignoring the wind and strengthening from the rain. _Go find him. Find Axel and bring him back._

He had no way of knowing how long he'd been sitting on the roof. Demyx did know that he was shivering and his hands were feeling a bit numb by the time one of his water clones reappeared, hauling a limp, dark bundle topped with glowing red. "Oh...you f-found him..." At least he assumed so, until the clone brought him close enough to check. It _was_ Axel. "Good work..." Demyx murmured as the clone set him down nearby, then moved away. He poked the other Nobody gently. "Axel? You st-till alive?"

_Well, obviously, otherwise he'd have faded..._ But Axel wasn't responding, and he felt oddly cool to the touch. This was worrying - the fire wielder's normal body temperature would have been called a fever in anyone else. And if he was _cooler_ than a normal person... "Axel? C-come on, wake up. Stop t-trying to scare me - I'm a Nob-body; I can't be scared." Demyx's words sounded hollow even as he said them.

He took one of Axel's hands. It felt...strange, and not simply because it was cold. "Wake up and m-make a fire, will you?" he said, mostly to hear something besides the endless storm and wind.

Lightning flashed, and for a brief instant Demyx got a better look at Axel. He looked like a drowned rat, with his hair flattened against his head; he seemed to be hardly breathing, and..._Oh, no...bad...is he..._fading?

He put one hand on the other Nobody's chest. There wasn't a snowball's chance of finding a heartbeat, but that wasn't what he was looking for. "Heh...I sh-should have known," he whispered. "H-he's all full of water..."

Demyx held his other hand over Axel's face. "This had b-better work..." He concentrated, and fine ribbons of water started curling out of Axel's mouth and nose - more importantly, out of his lungs. Demyx shuddered at the idea of inhaling that...sewage...and wondered vaguely what it might do to Axel besides block his powers and keep him from breathing.

_Vexen can worry about that..._ he thought. His mind started to wander, wondering how the Superior would react to the news that the mission couldn't be completed - and it wasn't Demyx's fault this time - Luxord would think it was funny as hell - Hell wasn't funny at all, was it? Not really, if you thought about it...and Demyx suddenly realized that if he went much further, he'd start pulling out blood, and that really wouldn't help. Lightning flashed again - and Axel still looked like a drowned rat, but he seemed to be breathing easier, and Demyx must have been mistaken when he thought he saw Axel fading before...

But he still wouldn't wake up, and his stomach was all full of water too...Demyx chose to solve this dual problem the first way that came to mind. He dragged Axel closer to the sheltering chimney, as close as he could reasonably get both of them with the sitar in the way, arranged him something like comfortably, muttered an apology, and punched him in the gut as hard as he could.

Axel immediately came to, choking and retching. "Oh...water...help..." he gasped.

"A-Axel?"

His eyes didn't want to focus, and it was too dark to see anyway, but he recognized the voice. "Demyx?...You came after me?..."

"Axel, you j-just threw up on me."

"...Oh...Um, sorry...I...didn't mean to?"

"Forget it, it was m-mostly water..." Axel shuddered and crawled up against the chimney. His saturated robes were already starting to steam slightly - a good sign.

"Demyx...why are we on the roof of a house?" Demyx just pointed at the water. In the lightning, it could be seen rushing over the bottom of the roof and slowly rising towards them. Axel recoiled in horror and clung to Demyx, whimpering something that sounded like "ifthereareanygodsthatlookafterNobodiesplease_getmeoutofhere_..."

"Um, Axel...d-don't take this p-personally - actually, th-this isn't all b-bad since y-you're warm and I'm c-cold, but...p-please get off me." Demyx had to yell to make himself heard.

Axel shook his head and clung tighter. "I don't wanna go in the water. I don't wanna."

"Axel...you're not going to g-go in the water, all right? Now, please, let go."

"N-no." He was about to squeeze the breath out of the Nocturne's lungs. "We're gonna die here, aren't we?"

"I will if you don't let me breathe...Axel, you're panicking. Listen to me." Demyx knew he had no business giving orders to a Superior, but he figured that since Axel had apparently lost his mind, he wouldn't object. And Nobodies could panic - it was an instinctive reaction that bypassed the heart. He'd done it himself more than once.

Axel pulled back just enough to give Demyx some breathing room, but still clutched at his robes. "Axel, you should portal back to the Castle. I don't know what sort of garbage is in that water you swallowed, inhaled, and bathed in, but it's nasty. Probably sewage and dead bodies and stuff." Axel's face started turning the same color as his eyes. "You should let Vexen take a look at you. Look, you're already starting to overheat. Maybe it's making you sick." Indeed, the Flurry's cloak was not only steaming, but smoking a little. Demyx was becoming uncomfortably warm from the close contact.

"Vexen hates my guts, got it memorized?"

"But you just puked about a gallon of water, I dragged another gallon out of your lungs, it's probably going to make you sick, and you might be hurt too. Vexen wouldn't let you die just because he doesn't like you. The Superior wouldn't let him." _ I'm the calm one here? I can't believe it...what gives?  
_

Axel pulled away a little further and looked at him with wide green eyes. "But what about you?"

Demyx was about to say he'd go back too, but something made him pause for a moment. _I remember the first time I came to this place; it was all full of music and life and people...the people...how many of them are trapped like us? And if the people die, what'll happen to the world? _

_What about the music?_

_I'm not just a bad fighter, I'm a soft touch. But I knew that._ He worked one arm free and reached for his sitar. "I'll be all right. I'm surrounded by water. I can live with that."

Axel suddenly grabbed him tight, forcing him to cling to the pointed end of his instrument to keep it from sliding off the roof and into the flood. The wind, as much as gravity, was pulling the heavy sitar out of his grip. "You're not _coming_?!"

"I'll be fine, I said! The water doesn't scare me! I control it! You're the one in danger! Now get out of here before the water covers the house!" As Axel whimpered in terror, Demyx worked his other hand free and opened a dark portal a few feet away. "There's the way out! Go!" Spurred on by the thought of drowning all over again, Axel tore himself away, ignoring the fierce hurricane winds.

"I'll come back! I'll get help!" As Demyx shook his head and pulled his sitar to safety, Axel jumped through the portal, tumbling head over heels as he landed - right in front of Vexen's laboratory. The Chilly Academic suddenly found his path blocked by a soaked, bedraggled, and incoherent Flurry of Dancing Flames.

* * *

"Number Eight...what in Kingdom Hearts' name -" 

Axel blinked, trying to regain his bearings. _Castle...safe...home...person? Oh, Vexen! _"Vexen? Oh, thank...whatever...where's Xaldin? I need his help!"

Vexen's gaze was always especially chilly for Axel, particularly when he appeared out of nowhere to land in front of _his_ laboratory - full of important, valuable, flammable experiments - looking like something dogs wouldn't bite. "Number Three has recently left on a mission. He is not scheduled to return for some few days."

Axel, who'd pulled himself to his knees, sank back down to the floor. "Oh, no...that idiot's gonna die there..."

The temperature dropped three degrees, despite Axel's presence. "To what idiot might you be referring, Number Eight?"

"Demyx! He's gonna die in that goddamn storm, I just know it! I don't know what the hell he's thinking - well, knowing him, he probably isn't - the whole world is just flooded! That storm - it's - it's - and he stayed behind! He's gonna drown or blow away or something! Dammit, I'm his Superior, I should have ordered him to come back with me - I wasn't thinking either - I should h-" Axel stopped freaking suddenly as he felt a sharp pain in his upper arm. He looked. "Um...V-Four...needle?"

"A sedative." Oh...well, the world was starting to look a bit fuzz-

An hour later, Lexaeus and Roxas left Vexen's lab. Lexaeus was carrying the still-unconscious Flurry of Dancing Flames, and Roxas was trailing after him in disbelief, reading over a likely candidate for the strangest orders he would ever receive.

_Due to extreme stress and possible illness, Number VIII's body temperature is dangerously high. This is a greater concern with Number VIII than for another Nobody, because of his elemental powers. Once he regains consciousness, your mission is to ensure he consumes a steady supply of cold foods and beverages until his body temperature returns to a more normal level. This is unlikely to cause any great difficulties, unless Number VIII is unable to tolerate solid food. However, he may be delirious._

"So...my job is to feed Axel ice cream once he wakes up, unless he can't keep anything down, but he may be completely out of it?" Roxas stuck the notecard back into his pocket and shook his head in amazement. "This should be more fun than my last mission..."

* * *

_He didn't come back._ Demyx sighed and flinched as another brick from the chimney blew past him to land on the roof and roll into the water. _Guess he was too afraid...of course, we can't feel fear...oh, bull. _I'm_ afraid._ He was huddled against the base of the chimney, trying to keep himself out of the wind and away from rising water while still playing his sitar. He was shivering uncontrollably, his feet felt almost as numb as the bricks, and before long, his fingers would be too stiff and cold to play anymore, but right now, he had to keep playing while he still could, didn't dare stop to brush the hair out of his eyes, had to keep the music going...as long as his powers still worked, and he could still do something... 

It probably wouldn't be long now. If his hands didn't become so numb he couldn't pluck another string, he'd wear himself out from the effort of controlling so many clones at once - four times as many as he'd ever summoned before - so far away from him and doing something so unfamiliar as search-and-rescue, and still holding back the rain and flood as best he could. That power expenditure alone could destroy him if he wasn't careful, and Demyx wasn't known for being careful.

_I wonder if my playing has done any good...I wonder if my water clones have saved anybody else...I wonder how bad it would be now if I'd gone with Axel..._

_I wonder...if I've done anything at all...except kill myself..._

* * *

In the next chapter: Roxas begins a strange mission, and there's a strange man at the Superdome. 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	3. Chapter 2: He didn't come back?

"Axel?"

Axel blinked in the semi-darkness. He was lying on his back, on a bed, feeling like he'd been run over by an elephant, and somebody - or Nobody - with blond hair and blue eyes was standing over him. "...Demyx?"

"What?"

"Demyx, you sound funny."

"That's because I'm Roxas."

"...Oh..." As the lights came up, Axel squinted in the sudden brightness. He could see where he was now...he was back in his room...at the Castle that Never Was...and... "Yeah, you're definitely Roxas."

Roxas's face barely twitched. He just handed Axel an ice cream. "Here, eat this."

"Um, thanks," he said as he accepted it, "but...how did I get here?"

The younger Nobody shrugged helplessly. "Lexaeus carried you down here before he left - that's all I can tell you. Last I knew, you'd left on a mission with Demyx, and suddenly Vexen hauls me up and tells me you got overheated and once you woke up I was supposed to feed you cold stuff until your temperature went back down. I don't want to think about how many fires you set off while you were still out of it."

Axel stifled a laugh by stuffing the ice cream in his mouth. "Ah wanna wah oo ah ehin oh oh."

"...Come again?"

He tried again without the ice cream. "I wondered why you were wearing your cloak."

"You burned a hole in my shirt, that's why! And here I thought having to feed you ice cream was going to be _easy. _I guess I must not have figured on you setting me on _fire._ In your _sleep._"

Axel grinned and tried to swallow a laugh. "In my sleep? I'm good...Ah, well, I intend to make the part about feeding me ice cream as easy as possible. Speaking of which, do you have more handy? I'm nearly done with this one already - and are you allowed to have some too?"

"It's impossible to keep them in your room for long; they just melt, you know that from experience...but I do know where I can get more. And Vexen didn't say anything about me not being able to have any..." Roxas portaled away and returned a minute later with ice cream for both of them.

"Roxas, if you ever get sick, I want this job. Got it memorized?"

Roxas snorted. "When I have a fever, bringing it down isn't such a priority, because I don't make things catch fire."

"Then maybe I should get sick more often..." Axel relaxed, enjoying the taste of the ice cream. "How's Demyx?"

Roxas looked blank. "He hasn't come back yet - it's only been overnight. How long was your mission supposed to last?"

The ice cream nearly hit the floor. "He didn't come back?"

"Well, no...was he supposed to? And how much trouble did you two get in so fast? Vexen said he couldn't get any sense out of you - what exactly happened?"

_Oh...shit._ Axel didn't answer, just leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh. "I shouldn't be telling you this first, but...the mission was doomed before we even got there. Demyx and I...landed in the middle of the worst storm I have ever heard of. It - there was so much water - it seemed like the whole world was flooded, and the wind was blowing hard enough to tear your skin off. I almost died," he added in a small voice. "And Demyx...idiot that he was, he told me to come back while he - stayed there."

Roxas's jaw dropped. "What? Why would he do that? I'd think he would have just...run away."

"I didn't ask him," Axel said softly. "To be honest...I was freaking out, and he was the calm one. Or, calmer, I guess. He and his water clones saved my ass - if he'd chickened out, I'd have drowned, I know it. I don't think I'll ever pick on him for being a coward again...assuming I get the chance." He lapsed into silence, watching his ice cream melt onto his fingers.

Roxas shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't the bold, self-assured Axel he was familiar with, and he didn't think it was solidly an improvement. "Axel...if it'd make you feel better...well, not 'feel better', I guess, but...do you want me to check the Proof of Existence for you?"

Axel hesitated. _I don't know if I really want to know..._ "Would you please? Wait..." Roxas stopped mid-stride and turned back to look at him. "I...don't know. I mean, if he's alive, I want to know, but..."

Roxas rubbed his forehead. What was going on? A subdued, uncertain Axel - who'd let good ice cream melt rather than eating it, no less - talking about an heroic, self-sacrificing Demyx? "One of us has gone crazy...Forget it, I'm just going to go check." He shook his head and stepped through the portal.

Axel stared at the gooey ice cream stick, as if the answers to all his questions were written on it if he just looked hard enough. _Why did I freak out so badly? How did he stay calm? Isn't he the one that's supposed to yell "Run! Run away!" at the first sign of danger? Why did he stay behind? He mentioned something about the world being full of music - but he wouldn't sit on a rooftop in the worst storm my nightmares could have cooked up until he froze to death or blew away just for the music, would he?_

He whipped his head in the direction of the sound of a portal opening. "Roxas? Is he...?"

"I haven't checked the Proof yet. I stopped to get you more ice cream. Your closet door is smoking; you might want to change that."

* * *

_Come Hell or high water,_ they say. 

But sometimes, Hell comes as high water. That's how it came to the Big Easy.

Hell and high water came to take away - take away lives, take away hope, take away families and friends and everything a person ever had. There wasn't a sole survivor who didn't have some sort of tragic tale to tell - parents who couldn't hold on to their children in the raging flood, children whose parents' hands had been torn away from theirs, husbands and wives losing track of each other never to find each other again.

But some survivors had a stranger tale to tell, one that seemed more fantastic than tragic. The people who were pulled out of Hell and saved from the high water by the Brown Men.

The Brown Men never said a word, not to the people they saved, not to the people they handed them over to. There were a hundred of them,or a dozen, or just one; they walked on the water, or they were made of water - but one thing everyone agreed on was that they were the same all-over brown as the water, and all of them alike. They just went silently over the flood, pulling people out of wrecked houses or out of trees or out of the water and carrying them away to someplace safe. Most every hurricane shelter in the city got a visit from at least one of them, but the Superdome collected more than its fair share.

And, they found out when someone decided to ask around, they seemed to have a decided preference for musicians.

The last one the Brown Men carried in, before they all seemed to disappear at once, was a teenage boy with dirty blond hair cut in what could only be called a "mullhawk" and eyes someone said looked like a Caribbean sea, clutching an odd-looking sitar like it was his last tie to this world. He was barely conscious, chilled to the bone and shaking like a leaf, but as long as he was still breathing all right and wasn't obviously on the brink of death, they just handed him an old blanket to cover his soaking trenchcoat and let him take care of himself - there were too many other people around who'd just been through Hell to worry about one more lost, lonely kid. Nobody spent much time worrying about him; they certainly didn't bother to check his pulse.

* * *

In the next chapter: Someone checks the kid's pulse. And what happens when Axel gets really sick? 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities. And if I owned New Orleans, I'd try to get it fixed, which is more than the government is doing.


	4. Chapter 3: The hell is Katrina?

Roxas sat down for a moment in the cooler air of the Proof of Existence and heaved a deep sigh of relief. Demyx's stone was still glowing a clear, bright blue. That news ought to relax the Flurry of Dancing Flames somewhat - whenever Axel got worked up about something, his body temperature started rising, and when Axel's temperature started rising, things caught fire. After stopping back at the kitchen to get more ice cream - Xaldin wasn't around to chase him away - he returned to Axel's room to reassure him that the Melodious Nocturne had managed to survive whatever horror had driven his pyro friend to distraction.

He nearly gasped - the temperature seemed to have gone up ten degrees in his brief absence. Axel was sitting on his bed, staring at the molten remains of _another_ ruined ice cream that was now running down his hand to his wrist. "Axel - you were supposed to eat that!"

"I didn't want to."

Roxas heaved another deep sigh, this one of frustration, and handed Axel a fresh ice cream. "I don't care - eat this one. There's good news - I checked the Proof, and Demyx is still alive."

"Well, of course you are - you're talking to me."

Roxas gaped at him for a long, long moment, as Axel stared unenthusiastically at the ice cream and started eating it with a martyred look. "Axel...I'm Roxas. Not Demyx. Roxas."

"Huh?" The redhead blinked as if he was just seeing Roxas for the first time. "Oh. Yeah. You are. Don't know how I got you confused."

"Axel, what's the matter with you? Your room's like an oven, you can't tell me from Demyx, and you don't want ice cream! The ice cream alone makes me think you're sick or something."

Axel sniffed a bit. "You told me that water might make me sick..."

"God_damn_it! I am _not Demyx!_"

Axel looked up, recognition and realization dawning in his eyes. "You're right. You're Roxas. I know that. Got it memorized. Just...until I look away. I guess...I am sick. You were right - _Demyx_ was right."

He shivered.

Roxas nearly jumped. Axel _never_ shivered. He'd spent three hours in his boxers in a walk-in freezer once, just for a bet, and had emerged tired, a bit sluggish, and mad as hell at Luxord, but not _shivering_. Then Roxas did jump, as the carpet suddenly burst into a merry blaze. He grabbed for the bucket of water he'd been keeping handy to douse Axel's "accidents".

He looked at the ruined carpet...at the empty bucket...at the miserable Flurry...at the ruined carpet..."Axel?"

"Sorry," Axel murmured. "I d-didn't mean to."

Roxas put one hand against Axel's forehead and immediately jerked it away. "Your skin's like a lit burner - oh, this is bad. Here, I'll get you some water to drink, and then I'll go get help for you, okay?"

Axel whimpered. "But you said the water was disgusting."

_Not again...guess I might as well go with it._ "Not this water. I'll get you some fresh water that's okay to drink. I don't want you to overheat and start another fire."

"But...can't you just put it out?"

"If I kept putting out all your little fires, I'd burn out my powers eventually, and someone might get hurt. It's easier if you don't start any." Roxas ran into the bathroom and filled a glass from the tap. "Here, drink this, and I'll be right back."

* * *

"- but when I came back from the Proof of Existence, Ax- Eight had just let his ice cream melt instead of eating it, and he kept mistaking me for Nine. Every time I corrected him, he recognized me, but he'd do it again a minute later. And - he was shivering." Roxas looked up uncertainly at the Chilly Academic. 

Vexen sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You didn't, by any chance, check his temperature?"

Roxas nodded. "Well, I tried. I put one hand to his forehead and it was like putting it down on a burner."

"Were there any more spontaneous conflagrations?"

"..."

"Did he start any more fires, Thirteen?"

"Well, right before I went to check the Proof, his closet door started smoking a bit, and right after he started shivering, a big chunk of the carpet caught fire. I put it out - I hope he hasn't started any more fires..."

Vexen closed his eyes. "Thirteen..." He looked as if he wanted to continue, but stopped. "Is there anything else you can tell me about Eight's condition?" Roxas shook his head. "Then...I believe the Superior would like to see you."

Roxas's stomach dropped into his boots. He portaled to Xemnas's office, followed by a cloud of impending doom.

Xemnas and Zexion - of all Nobodies - looked up as he entered. Xemnas looked like he had a record-setting migraine. Zexion looked like a particularly dispassionate statue.

Xemnas had apparently been writing something; he set his pen down to interrogate Roxas. "Thirteen...how is Eight's condition?"

"S-Superior, he's out of it. He barely recognizes me." Roxas couldn't quite keep the tremor out of his voice. "He keeps mistaking me for Nine. I-I think he's really sick; I told Four ab-"

The Superior cut him off with a wave of his hand and a heavy sigh. "Number Eight cannot be allowed to remain at the castle during his illness. It would be a disaster waiting to happen. And it is imperative we learn what happened to Number Nine. In case of disaster, I would have expected Nine to come fleeing back in a panic and Eight to return in a temper; instead Eight returns in a panic and Nine simply fails to return." He motioned Zexion over. "The one member who would stand the best chance of finding Nine is Eight, and he cannot be sent. Therefore, you are to tell Six everything Eight may have shared with you about this failed mission and Nine's possible whereabouts."

_He's sending Zexion on a search-and-rescue mission? If you can call it that?_ "Um, Superior...what will happen to Eight?"

"We intend to send him to recover in a world where he is - unlikely to cause a great deal of damage. And as the one member who can likely be trusted to look after him without either of you being seriously injured, you will be accompanying him."

* * *

Demyx couldn't remember being so miserable in his entire nonexistence, and he'd been miserable more often than one might suspect. He was soaked to the bone and didn't have enough power left to do anything about it, colder than Vexen's freezer with nothing warmer than his sopping cloak and a pretty wet blanket, couldn't bring his sitar back after unsummoning it; he was hungry, lost, lonely, couldn't stop shaking, and his entire body hurt, especially his head, arms, and throat. He was so completely drained he couldn't even open a portal home. 

There wasn't a single person here who cared. And he figured his rescue would wait until none of the other members had anything better to do.

_"I'm so bored; I'm sick of sitting around here; what can we do?" "Well, we could go rescue Nine..." "Oh, Superior, wasn't there something you needed done in the Underworld?..." Pfft. Maybe Axel will wake up feeling guilty and come get me._ Demyx snorted at the idea. _Even if he tried, he'd never find me. For all I know, he's not even in any shape to try._ The storm had washed away his optimistic spirit along with the house whose roof he'd been camped on. I_ don't even know where I am. _The last thing he remembered was feeling his control over his element falter...as the water finally crawled up to where he couldn't avoid it...and the house started to shift...and he prepared to kiss his existence goodbye over this last, stupidest stunt.

Obviously, that hadn't happened. Something - most likely one of his own water clones, in its last few minutes before dissipating - had gathered him up and carried him - here. Wherever here was - it looked like a giant stadium, except the floor was covered in water and debris - possibly the missing chunks of the roof. He pulled his borrowed blanket closer and shivered.

"You all right, kid?"

Demyx looked around in surprise. The dark-skinned woman in white - a complete stranger - was talking to him! She actually wanted to know if he was okay or not!

"Yss." Kingdom Hearts - did his voice really sound that bad? He coughed and tried again. "Yhss." That wasn't much of an improvement. He coughed again. "_Yes._"

The woman looked at him skeptically. "You don't sound okay. Open your mouth and lemme take a look at your throat." Demyx, generally an obliging sort, did so without question, even though he did gag a bit on the tongue depressor. She frowned, apparently not liking what she saw, and put her hand to his forehead. "Well, kid, your throat's all red and you got kind of a fever. What's your name?"

"Demyx," he mumbled. His throat hurt twice as much when he tried to talk.

"You just say Dennis?"

Demyx blinked, then just nodded. "Yeah." It was close enough to his "real" name, and if it helped him fit in here right now, when he couldn't defend himself by any means...

"Dennis, you got family here with you? Or friends?" He shook his head, not wanting to talk any more than he had to. "You here all by yourself?" He nodded. "Well, if you got here before Katrina did, you must have -"

_...The hell is Katrina?_ Demyx just shook his head. "What, you didn't come in until after the storm started? How'd you get here?" The woman's eyes suddenly brightened. "Wait, now I remember where I saw you before. You're the last guy the Brown Men brought in!"

"...The Brown Men?" he whispered in confusion.

"I ain't surprised if you don't remember. But I figure there musta been two dozen of 'em goin' through the city walkin' on water, rescuin' people and bringin' 'em back here. They were brown all over, like they were made of river water, and they were wearin' these funny coats...actually, they looked kinda like the coat you got on, 'cept brown instead of black...actually..." The woman grabbed his chin and turned his head. "Your face looks a lot like theirs, too, now I get a better look at it. Same funny hairstyle and everything."

_Funny hairstyle?!...Wait a second...Oh. Now_ he had it figured out. The so-called "Brown Men" must have been his water clones! Demyx might have laughed at that, except he suddenly started shaking again, and coughed when he tried to laugh. The woman frowned deeply.

"Dennis, lemme check your heart and lungs quick." He froze. _No...anything but that..._ But it was too late. With practiced ease, the woman had produced a stethoscope and thrust it down his shirt, where the cold metal pressed uncomfortably against his skin.

She listened...and listened...and listened...and moved the stethoscope a little this way...a little that way...a little further this way...and dropped the stethoscope, closing her eyes and pressing her hand against her own chest.

"Oh, my God..."

Demyx took off running, leaving the blanket behind on the concrete, before she had a chance to open her eyes.

* * *

In the next chapter: Zexion arrives in New Orleans, and Roxas and Axel arrive in... 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	5. Chapter 4:  Four kinds of Hell

Demyx didn't slow down until he tripped and fell flat on his face. "Watch where you're goin', shithead!" somebody snarled, and he scrambled back to his feet, clutching a bleeding nose, eyes darting to see who was sounding so threatening.

"Sorry," he rasped to no one in particular, even though his throat hurt so much he could have cried. "I was just -"

"Just bein' an idiot, I could tell." A huge hand reached down and grabbed him by the collar, and he found himself in the grip of a man who might have held his own against Lexaeus, if the Silent Hero had been having an off day. "And let me tell you I don't take kindly to idiots."

Demyx nervously licked the blood off his face and squirmed in an effort to free himself. "I'm sorry - I was in a hurry -"

"Hurry to what? Run over some of these poor little kids or little old ladies? I think somebody oughta teach you to slow down -"

"Joe, piss off. You think that kid's had an easier time of it than you? We're all of us in here just as screwed as the next guy. Don't pick a fight you don't need to, okay?"

Joe glared uncooperatively at the other man, then shrugged and threw Demyx to the ground. He curled up in a ball, in case the man decided he needed one more quick lesson, say, from a boot.

"Goddamnit, Joe! What the hell did I just tell you?" The other man stood up. "What's the matter with you?"

Joe groaned. "David, get the fuck off my ass. What's it to you?"

"Well, someone's gotta be on your ass about it, I guess, otherwise you're gonna go apeshit on everyone that makes eye contact! Learn a little control, man!" While they argued, Demyx pulled himself into a sitting position and began edging away slowly. "Think Mama'd be proud of you, throwin' that kid around like a fuckin' football, when all he did was fall down in front of you? Think Queena'd be proud watchin' her daddy beat the shit out of a kid who ain't much older than she is?"

Joe roared and grabbed David by the collar. "Don't _fucking_ talk about Queena!"

David kept right on talking, even though Joe was half again his size. "Yeah, she'd be real proud watching Daddy beatin' on little Uncle Dave just for tryin' to keep Daddy's head on straight. Come on, Joe. Don't take it out on the world. You're actin' like she's gotta be dead. You don't know that." His voice softened. "Don't give up on her yet, Joe. Don't give up."

Joe just stared at his brother for a moment. Then he seemed to collapse in on himself. Releasing his grip on David, he sank into a nearby seat and sobbed brokenly. David gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and turned to Demyx, who was still trying to edge far enough away for comfort. "Kid, what's your name?"

"Dennis," he mumbled reluctantly.

"What was that? Speak up, I can't hear you."

"Can't," he whispered, putting a hand on his throat to demonstrate.

David's eyes narrowed. "What, he hurt your throat?"

Demyx shook his head. "Already hurt."

"Oh. Well, uh...sorry about my brother goin' after you like that. He lost track of his little girl last night, and...yeah, you can see, it's hittin' him pretty hard. He...he ain't really thinkin' straight." Demyx nodded; some little part of him somewhere understood. David fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to him. "For your nose...How about you? What's your sad story?"

Demyx held the handkerchief to his bleeding nose and shrugged, not knowing how to answer. The truth obviously wouldn't work, and he couldn't come up with anything else in five seconds. Fortunately, David misinterpreted his shrug. "Oh, that's right, you can't talk. Sore throat. Well...you like music?" Demyx nodded enthusiastically, and David reached for an instrument case the Nocturne had somehow never seen before, even though David had been sitting on it earlier. "Ever hear what a sitar sounds like? It ain't a popular instrument; there's not a lot of people who play it, but -"

Demyx's eyes bulged for a moment. Then, if he hadn't started coughing after a while, he might have died laughing. "What's so funny - wait, don't tell me - you actually play one yourself!" Demyx nodded furiously. "Guess it's our lucky day!"

* * *

Roxas just stared. _This...is where we're supposed to stay until Axel gets better?_ To put it politely, he was unimpressed. By the world, which seemed to be a solid block of snow with a few trees and a brick platform, not to mention _cold_. And...living conditions left something to be desired, in his opinion. 

"We're going to be living in a _tent_," he complained to the still-unconscious Axel. "A tent. Sitting on a pile of bricks. You're going to burn it down before you wake up, I can tell." He sighed. "At least we have some electric lights...Vexen must have provided a generator...microwave...electric stove...fridge and freezer? Why?..." Roxas pried open a large chest next to his cot. "Winter clothes...in my size...and blankets...which is good, because apparently they didn't see fit to leave me a heater." He took out a pile of blankets and set them on the end of the cot. Axel, who'd been sedated again for the move, hadn't stirred throughout the monologue. "Well, I guess it's not like you need one...you're as good as a furnace just by yourself." Roxas paused...thought...and then realized he wasn't actually cold. "Oh...maybe that's why I didn't get a heater."

As if in response, a little flame flickered against the wall of the tent next to Roxas's head. He yelped and jumped away, quickly looking around to see if they'd been left something so useful as a fire extinguisher. By the time he turned back to the fire...there was just a faintly blackened spot on the tent wall.

He looked at Axel. Still senseless as a brick.

"...Oh! It's _fireproof!_"

* * *

_Map of New Orleans, reasonably up-to-date...check._

_Thirteen's secondhand information, transcribed and annotated...check._

_Picture of Nine, recognizable...check._

_And they said a lexicon was a ridiculous weapon. _Zexion closed his lexicon and smirked faintly._ What sort of useful information can be contained on a scythe?_ He had all the information he was likely to need to locate Nine at his fingertips, and it would be impossible to lose, confuse, or forget. With all the artificial confidence he was capable of, he opened a dark portal and stepped through it.

"_Bleurgh!_"

The incredible _stench_ of the place in his extremely sensitive nose made him sick to his stomach almost immediately. Neither confidence nor breakfast lasted long.

_Now...there is something I wish I'd known earlier. The aroma. _ He waded through a street flooded knee-deep with murky water to find someplace to sit down until his stomach settled and he adjusted to that appalling smell - like crude oil and sewage and animals and corpses and mold and too many people too close together. _And Eight nearly drowned in this water - no wonder he's so ill. If I could retrieve my heart right now, I can't be sure I wouldn't trade it right back for a shower and the chance to never smell this place again._

He paid no attention at all to what had been a beautiful park only days before; at the moment, it was only a backdrop to his discomfort. Eventually, he found a bench that wasn't completely submerged and sat down, knees drawn up to his chest to keep his feet out of the water, and wondered how he was going to begin this search if his sense of smell was so blunted. Certainly, Nine's picture and description would allow him to ask around if anyone had seen him, but if he had no hint where to begin his search and started in the wrong area, he would waste all his efforts. If Nine eventually returned without him, Zexion would not only have failed his mission, but he would be the one lost in this nauseating world. If Nine's Proof of Existence went red...he didn't care to spend much thought on that possibility.

And going around talking to random strangers wasn't high on Zexion's "To Do" list.

_I cannot feel. I cannot possibly feel this sick._

He was trying to will his nausea away when he caught scent of a stranger. Looking up, he saw that the stranger was standing in front of him, holding a gun.

"That's a pretty snazzy coat you got there, kid. Designer, I bet. Think my son'd like it real well."

* * *

Roxas was searching the fridge for his dinner when Axel came to. He'd already found the medicated ice cream in the freezer - _however Vexen came up with that one, Axel ought to be grateful _- and was trying to decide between the chicken and the ham sandwich when he heard a soft rustling on the other side of the tent. His ears perked, but he'd decided it had only been the wind when he heard Axel's voice calling "Demyx?" 

Roxas immediately shut the fridge door and went over to Axel, who was watching him with unnaturally bright green eyes. He'd resigned himself to his friend's current inability to tell him from Demyx. "Axel? How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Am I going to die here?" Axel replied, in the same tone he might have used to ask "Are you going to eat that?"

Sharp claws dug into Roxas's chest, right where his heart used to be. "No," he answered, trying to sound as confident as possible. "You'll be all right. We'll be all right."

Axel smiled. "Good." He closed his eyes and rolled over, once again dead to the world. Even though he was standing within a foot of the sick, feverish Flurry of Dancing Flames, Roxas shivered. He suddenly had a vision of waking up to find Axel's bed empty, and Axel himself faded into the darkness.

He shoved his cot over closer to Axel's. _I don't think I'm going to get much sleep tonight._

* * *

In the next chapter: Zexion is unimpressed by gunplay, Xigbar is unimpressed by Vexen, and Demyx is unimpressed by the food. 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	6. Chapter 5: A game of guesswork

Zexion stared coldly at the man who was threatening him. "Put the gun away."

The man sneered. "Hand over that coat and I won't shoot you."

"Put the gun away. I won't repeat myself again."

"What, you think you can stare me down, runt? You're kind of creepy, I admit, but I'll be damned if you're that creepy."

"_Snrr..."_

"You might want to pay more attention to the tigers behind you. Perhaps they'll be impressed."

The man turned around slowly. There were, indeed, three very unhappy-looking tigers behind him, all eyeing him with ravenous malice. He panicked and fired wildly in an effort to kill them or frighten them off, but the illusory animals were unfazed. One sprang at him, and the man dropped his weapon and fled, screaming.

Zexion snorted. "Idiot." He opened his lexicon and looked at the map of the world, trying to determine where he was in it. Held the map so it was oriented the same way he was facing. Tried to determine where Eight and Nine might have started out and where Nine might have ended up in case of a levee breach based on probable water currents. Attempted to plot which areas would likely be flooded to impassibility, which areas would likely be flooded but still passable, and which areas were probably still dry. Looked at the scale on the side of the map.

And realized just how little information he really had.

* * *

_I never thought I'd drink bottled water. The whole idea seems kind of strange, or maybe that's just me. _ Demyx examined the bottle carefully, as if it were carved out of a solid gem instead of molded from clear plastic. One of the things he'd thought he'd lost with his heart was his ability to feel thirst. He'd never suspected that he was never thirsty because of his powers over water. Well, now his powers weren't working, and he had one more source of discomfort to contend with. 

He didn't want to think too much about the MRE heating up on the concrete step next to him, hopefully where no one would step on it. The concept of fitting an entire meal, plus a heater, into little plastic bags was slightly baffling. The instructions were even more baffling. And the fact that people were expected to eat these...most baffling of all.

He tore the top off a hot bag of what claimed to be beef stew and looked inside. _Not even Axel would eat this._

Sighing, he reached for his plastic spoon. Well, Axel never went 24 hours without food if he could possibly help it, like he'd just done.

_I hope Vexen never gets this idea._

While he didn't expect to be rescued - because, honestly, who'd care enough to make the effort, when they could just check the Proof of Existence to make sure he was still alive? And how would they ever find him if they did? - he fully expected to be able to return on his own eventually, once he recovered his powers. He didn't know how long that would take, but, being Demyx, he was optimistic. It couldn't take too long, right? He wasn't the first member to burn out like this, was he? He knew Xigbar had done it once before, as an experiment, back when the Organization only numbered six...how long had it taken him to recover?

If he'd ever heard, he couldn't remember. He might have just finished recovering the day Demyx arrived. It could have been years.

Demyx looked out at the huge stadium. Suddenly realizing just how many _people_ were packed into it made him personally feel extremely small. The bottom of the stadium was full of trash, forcing everybody up into the higher tiers where he was, and there were still more people coming in. He couldn't even begin to think about counting them.

And with the rest of this world presumably in ruins, there was nowhere else to go.

The ersatz beef stew suddenly looked even less appealing than before. _And I might end up eating a lot of it._

_I'll recover soon...right? _

* * *

_Blam! _"Freeshooter's delivery service! Anybody home?" 

Once he pried himself off the tent ceiling, Roxas grabbed his coat and snow goggles and opened the tent flap. "Two...what are you doing here?"

"Xigbar, kid." The Freeshooter looked faintly ridiculous, wearing his eyepatch under dark goggles, and Roxas hated being called "kid", but he was six inches from bored out of his mind and would have welcomed a crowd of Heartless if they were awake and aware. "In theory, I'm here to check up on you two. In addition, our brilliant Academic went and had himself a brainfart, and I'm here to rectify it."

Roxas nearly choked. "_Vexen forgot _something?"

Xigbar peeled off his goggles as he stepped in, shaking snow off his boots. "Don't think it ever occurred to him, dude. If it doesn't have pushable buttons or turn green when you add acid, he doesn't know it's there. Me, I'm a bit more practical than that. I figured, being stuck here with poor Axel, who's pretty much out of it from what I hear, and not allowed to portal back even to use the bathroom or anything, you'd be getting kinda bored." The scarred man handed Roxas the bag he'd brought with him. "Thought you might like some of this stuff."

Roxas set the bag down on his cot and looked through it. Books...his PSP...his CD player...a stack of CDs..."Wait, these aren't all mine...you didn't raid Demyx's collection, did you?"

"As if. I don't want to drown in my sleep when he gets back," Xigbar snorted. "They're Axel's." As Roxas wondered how burning in your sleep was an improvement over drowning in your sleep, Xigbar turned to the redhead, who was sitting up, sort of, and watching them with bright green eyes. "So, dude, how's it going?"

Axel stared at him, openmouthed. "They talk?"

Xigbar turned back to Roxas. "Dude, he really is out of it."

Roxas nodded wearily. "He can't tell me from Demyx. He must think you're a water clone or something. I think he still thinks he's...back with Demyx on that failed mission."

"Kid, when one of us screws up, that's a failed mission. I think whatever happened to them is more along the lines of an 'unmitigated disaster'." He pulled a notepad and pen out of his pocket. "Now the crap that Vexen wants to know...still apparently delirious, don't need to ask you that...and it feels like an oven in here; guess he's still running a fever...find that medicated ice cream in the freezer?" Roxas nodded. "Get him to eat any of it?"

"Just one, the last time he woke up. He's only woken up twice, before now, and the first time was just for a few minutes."

"And he kept that down okay?" Roxas nodded again. "What else has he eaten?"

The young Nobody thought for a long moment. "...Actually, nothing. I had to talk him into eating the ice cream."

Xigbar blinked in surprise. "Nothing? Seriously?" He wrote that down with a concerned expression. "Well...he's awake now; try the ice cream again. He's only supposed to have one at a time, at least four hours apart, but if he's not eating anything else...I dunno. I probably forgot a dozen questions that Vexen's gonna want to kick my ass about, but I'll be back tomorrow anyway. Later, dudes."

"Wait - Xigbar?" The Freeshooter turned back to look at Roxas. "You think Demyx will come back?"

Xigbar held up his hands in exasperation. "Dude, just think for a second, why wouldn't he? Just because his fight-or-flight response is geared towards flight and he doesn't usually think before he acts doesn't mean he's a wuss or an idiot like everyone seems to assume. If he's in trouble, he's not so stupid he can't get himself out of it. If he's hurt or sick, he can probably charm someone into taking care of him. If he's burned himself out, he'll just take care of himself until Zexion catches up with him, or until he recovers if the Schemer's a slowpoke. Don't sell him too short, dude, and if you wanna know why, just ask Axel." He replaced his goggles and stepped outside. Moments later, a portal could be heard opening and closing.

Roxas glanced back at Axel as he went to the freezer like Xigbar had suggested. "So how much of that made sense to you?"

Axel still looked surprised. "I didn't know your water clones talked."

Roxas sighed. "I'll explain what that was all about later. Here."

Axel accepted the proffered medicated treat with an expression of bafflement. "Where do you keep coming up with these?"

Roxas thought fast. "...Vexen taught me how. And I figured they'd help keep you calm right now."

"Vexen taught you? Oh, I guess that kind of makes sense, since ice is just frozen water...But I'm a lot calmer than I was earlier. And I'm really not hungry. Not even for ice cream." Axel looked mournful.

Roxas stared. _I thought Demyx acting the hero was strange..._ The joke went that Axel literally _burned_ calories, and had to keep fueling the furnace he called a stomach constantly. Axel was _always_ hungry. _He must be sicker than I realized._ "...Eat it anyway. You need the food."

Axel pouted and ate his ice cream dutifully. Roxas wondered just what that weird sensation in the bottom of his stomach was.

* * *

By the time Zexion's stomach settled enough for him to think of continuing, he'd decided where he was - Audubon Park - and thought he had a workable plan. It would be impossible to deduce where Eight and Nine had been from the information he had, and the idea that Nine would simply be washed away through this mess and survive seemed ridiculous - maybe it was impossible for him to drown, but he would inevitably have been thrown into trees and buildings. And storms of this magnitude did not simply come crashing through with no advance warning whatsoever; there must have been_ some_ time to plan and prepare. For instance, by preparing shelters for the displaced in large, sturdy buildings. 

Buildings such as - Zexion checked the names circled on his map - the Superdome. And the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center. If Nine had held out through the night camped on a roof and been rescued later, or if he'd done something so clever as calling up a few water clones and ordering them to take him to safety, he could very well have ended up at one or the other.

_Which one to search first..._The two possible shelters were much closer to each other than to his present location - going to one would put him much closer to the other than he was now. The wrong choice could slow him down a bit, but it was unlikely to prevent him from locating Nine at all - if Nine couldn't make a portal back to the World that Never Was, it was unlikely he could make a portal out of this world to anywhere, and if he'd survived this long, he was probably more or less out of danger. The Superdome was a more obvious choice of a shelter, and was marginally closer. But the Convention Center was slightly uphill from where he was - meaning the floodwaters would decrease as he went. And a third choice - Tulane University Hospital - was a mere few blocks away.

If Nine was injured or ill and had been rescued, he probably would have been taken to a hospital instead of another shelter, and if he had been sent there, finding him became all the more urgent. Zexion closed his lexicon and started for the hospital under a darkening sky.

He had a brief moment of doubt when he saw that the sign on the building now read "ilane University Hospital".

* * *

In the next chapter: Roxas gets a new hairstyle - the hard way - and Demyx learns something about wishing on the sky. 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	7. Chapter 6: When water learned to dance

Demyx woke up feeling like someone had poured battery acid down his throat while he slept. His nose was pretty well clogged - not to mention sore - after he'd fallen on it yesterday, forcing him to breathe with his mouth open all night, and his throat had gone from hurting when he talked to merely hurting _more_ when he talked. Or coughed. He'd had an annoying cough yesterday; now, as soon as he breathed too deeply, the cough kicked in almost immediately and just wouldn't _stop_. And it sounded awful - people were backing away from him in alarm. Even after he got his breathing under control, they were still reluctant to go near him.

Well, at least he got a little space for himself this way. There was precious little of that.

_Thanks, New Orleans. I tried to save the music for you, and you stick me and twenty thousand other people in a filthy arena with no way out, and make me sick besides._ Demyx removed his cloak - was he running a fever, or was it really that hot and sticky so early? - and sort of folded it into a cushion; if all there was to do was sit around hoping for rescue or recovery, he didn't want to sit on the bare concrete anymore.

Eventually, sheer, desperate boredom sent him out to the concourse, which was crowded, filthy, covered in trash, and _outside._ Outside, the air was breathable. Inside, it was hot, stifling, and starting to smell like a septic tank.

He clutched his eternally damp and now pretty filthy cloak to his chest and looked out at the world around him. _Water._ Everything was full of water. From here, it looked beautiful to him, in a strange, terrible way. Emphasis on looked - he could still sense just how polluted that water was. Of course - his injured nose wrinkled at the thought - it was better than the bathrooms in there. No one dared use them.

His stomach growled unpleasantly. Sighing, he turned to go face the crowds and heat in the hopes of getting a little food.

He almost doubled over coughing the instant the smoke hit his lungs. Somebody had started a fire inside.

* * *

Zexion was perfectly willing to admit he was exhausted. After all, exhaustion was a purely physical sensation, as much as hunger and thirst. Of course, after having been shanghaied into working in patient transfers for a night, he didn't think it was the right time to debate the emotional psychology of Nobodies with himself. He thought it was the right time to hide in a corner and sleep. 

When he'd arrived at the battered hospital, he'd thought that lending a hand for a little while, distasteful as it seemed, would hurt nothing but his nonexistent dignity and would be his best chance of finding Nine, if he had ever been there. If he didn't find him among the patients being evacuated, he could show the picture and ask if anyone had seen his "older brother". Now, after the "little while" had lasted the entire night, his aching body regretted every minute of it, his stomach insisted that a few little cups of cold tomato soup just weren't enough, and he had yet to find Nine or anyone who may have seen him. He'd decided that either Nine had been evacuated long before or he'd never been at the hospital at all, but the work of moving patients out to where those...those... -_ ...helicopters?_ - were waiting to take them away had only intensified since daybreak, and every willing pair of hands, including his own not-so-willing-anymore hands, was needed to get them all downstairs and outside.

Reminding himself that Nobodies couldn't possibly have dignity to worry about, he slid into a dark corner - well, all the corners were dark since the power went out - cast the illusion of an upside-down trash can around himself, and settled down for what little rest he could find.

Which wasn't much. "This is another one from the Superdome," someone said as a gurney rattled by. "Apparently it just keeps getting worse in there."

"Yeah, I got a message from my sister in Nashville," another voice added. "She said it's supposed to be just awful there - people beating each other up, killing each other, just keeling over dead from heatstroke...there must be thirty thousand people in there, and they're all living like animals..." The voices faded as the speakers turned a corner.

_Nashville? Where or what is Nashville? Another world? Or is this one larger than we thought?_ He could worry about that later; for now, he knew that he ought to search the Superdome next...after a quick nap...he'd been searching all night, he could afford a lit..._zzz._

* * *

Roxas sighed. "If you're not going to eat any more ice cream, what will you eat?" 

"What, you expect me to b-believe you can pull an entire damn restaurant out of y-your sleeves?" Axel snarled in a manner that made Roxas glance around nervously for a fire extinguisher. "I told you, I am _not hungry_. Got it f-fucking memorized yet?"

Roxas sat back on his cot and buried his head in his hands. "Yes...Axel...I think I do. I'll leave you alone now." Axel rolled over to face the wall, still shivering slightly, seemingly oblivious to the intense heat that had caused Roxas to shed his cloak and resort to wearing a T-shirt and shorts in an ice world. Intense heat that he himself was generating.

_I thought he was getting better, for a little while..._When Axel had started showing some of his old, well, "fire", Roxas had hoped they were about to see the end of his mysterious illness and their enforced isolation. But Axel was still feverish and delirious, just with a temper. Worse yet, he was refusing to eat, even the special medicated ice cream Vexen had prepared.

"Dude doesn't look too good, does h-_ow!_" Roxas had jumped in surprise at hearing Xigbar's voice, and the back of his head had connected solidly with the Freeshooter's good eye. "I gotta remember - the tent ceiling is too short to walk on."

Roxas rubbed his head. "When did you get here?"

"About five seconds before you backed into my eye, little dude." Suddenly, Xigbar was standing on the floor. "So how's he been?"

Roxas shook his head. "He started acting more like himself earlier, and I thought that meant he was getting better...but he's not. He's just out of it with a bad temper now." The redhead hadn't so much as twitched since rolling over; he must have simply passed out. "And he won't even eat the ice cream now. He hasn't eaten anything so far today."

Xigbar cringed visibly as he pulled a notepad out of his pocket and wrote this down, presumably for Vexen's benefit. "Chills, fever, delirium, loss of appetite - anything else? Like a rash or something?"

"I'm not sure I'd notice a rash; right now, I'm afraid to get too close. But I just noticed this morning his eyes are pretty red, and h_aaaaaagh!_" Something intensely bright and _hot_ flared just above Roxas's line of vision before something heavy and dark was thrown over his head and held down for a few very long seconds.

"Son of a _bitch_ - you okay, dude?" The dark fabric was removed to reveal Xigbar holding Roxas's discarded cloak and looking stunned. "He fuckin' set your hair on fire!"

Roxas blinked in disbelief and reached up gingerly to touch his still-smoking blond hair. Axel was still lying senseless as a brick. "If and when he comes around...I am going to kill him. And here I was, about to say he hadn't started any fires for a while."

Xigbar looked oddly worried. "You okay, though? Didn't burn your skin or anything? If you need to portal back to get bandaged or something, I can keep an eye on him for a bit."

"No, really, I think I'll be fine...except for my hair..."

Xigbar shook his head. "Kid, the entire reason you're out here with him is because we all figured that you wouldn't hurt him, no matter how weird he was acting, and he wasn't gonna hurt you. That hypothesis just got rejected in pretty spectacular fashion. And if something happens to you, the Superior is gonna skin us all. If you're absolutely sure you're all right and can handle it -"

"I'm fine. Seriously. He's dead to the world right now - he doesn't know what's going on. It's not his fault."

The Freeshooter still looked skeptical. "If you're sure."

Roxas was still running his fingers through his hair - he didn't want to think about how bad it looked right now. "I'm sure...but I think I'd be even more sure if I had a fire extinguisher."

"Fire...extinguisher. Sure thing, dude." Xigbar wrote that down before pocketing his notepad. "See ya tomorrow. Try to get him to eat something, all right?"

* * *

_Shit._

Zexion rarely cursed, even to himself; cursing implied being angry or frustrated, which were simply impossible for him. But when he woke up eight hours later than he'd intended to, neck and back bent and stiffened out of joint from sitting in a corner all that time, one cheek almost numb from being pressed against the wall, a little smear of drool on his chin...it wasn't too hard to forget that minor detail.

He'd meant to strike out for the Superdome after waking up, but that was when he intended to take a short nap. According to the barely-visible wall clock, he'd been there for most of daylight - more than long enough for Nine to have arrived at the hospital and been sent off in one of those helicopters. If he had, chances were good that Zexion would never find him.

_If he has, there is nothing I can do at the moment except learn or deduce where he was sent, and as I cannot be certain he was sent anywhere, it would be better to continue as planned._ He stood up slowly and painfully, casting an illusion of invisibility around himself in case anyone saw him and wanted to ask uncomfortable questions, such as "What are you doing here?" or "Where were you all day?" or "Hey, can you give us a hand here?"

But as he looked out a shattered window, he could see the floodwaters had only risen since his arrival. He doubted they were too deep for him to wade; then again, he wasn't certain.

_Options: Escape on foot, wading through hip-deep water that smells like a thousand sorts of death, and may be deeper than I am tall in spots. Stay here and escape via helicopter,_ _knowing there's little food or drinkable water, working to the bone, and eventually being shipped off to parts unknown. Portal back to the World that Never Was and return immediately to a different location, which may be the Superdome itself or may be under ten feet of water, as I would have no clear destination in mind._

_This is going to be a long wade. But at least I'll know where I'm going. If the water becomes too deep, I can always portal back and return to someplace shallower.  
_

* * *

Demyx sat huddled against a pillar, scrunching up as small as possible so nobody fell over him, and trying not to breathe too deeply, turn his head too quickly, talk, laugh, or do anything else that might make him start coughing. Well, talking and laughing were easy to avoid. He was miserable. Everyone else in the stadium was miserable. Everyone else was wishing with all their hearts for a rescue from this dark, filthy, hot, crowded mess. And if he had a heart, he'd have wished for rescue with all of it, right along with the rest of them. There were rumors that someone called "Fema" was going to come and take them all somewhere else soon, but so far there had been only these strange flying machines called "helicopters" that came for the sickest and weakest or dropped more people off instead of taking anybody away. This "Fema" was supposed to bring food and other supplies too, but apparently that hadn't panned out either. He'd only had one meal today, another MRE, and didn't think he'd get more than that tomorrow. 

He looked up at the sky, clearly visible through the damaged roof. _When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are...that means it doesn't matter if I don't have a heart, right? I can't see any stars right now, but...I wish I could get out of here..._

There was an exultant yell behind him. "Hey, I just got a call says FEMA's gonna be sendin' buses for us tomorrow! They're supposed to be here at 6:00 in the morning!"

Demyx gasped, triggering another coughing fit. _Is...is my wish coming true already?_ he thought to himself, clutching his folded robe and a half-empty water bottle to his aching chest. _Does it work that fast?_ He glanced up once more, in between coughs. _In that case...I wish I had my powers back._

Someone else was cheering close by. "Woo-hoo! Hear that? We all gettin' out of here! Dance, people, dance!"

Demyx took a careful, calming breath as he finally got his coughing under control. Suddenly seeing his water bottle in a new light, he held it out in front of him, keeping its contents as still as possible. "Dance, water, dance," he whispered.

It may have been his imagination, but the water in the bottle splashed a little of its own accord.

He grinned.

* * *

In the next chapter: Demyx learns something about wishing for FEMA to come through. 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	8. Chapter 7:  Can I pretend

_"Any of you ever seen one of these before?" the girl asked, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a plate-sized disc with four large holes cut out of it. "It's a whistling frisbee. You throw it like a regular frisbee, and -" She gave it a toss. The frisbee made a clear, low whistle as it soared through the air. "- it whistles while it flies."_

_Roxas was distracted by something or other. Hayner poked him in the side. "Isn't that cool?"_

_"What? Oh, yeah, it is pretty cool." Olette caught the frisbee and sent it whistling back to the strange girl. Hayner poked him again. "What? I saw it. I said it was cool."_

_Poke._

_"What!"_

_Poke._

_"Stop it!"_

Roxas sat up, rubbing his eyes. Axel was wide awake and watching him intensely, one finger still extended; Roxas noticed his eyes were glowing like a cat's in the dark. "Are you awake now?" he asked.

"I am now," Roxas replied, reminding himself that Axel was very sick and not really in his right mind. "Why'd you keep poking me?"

"I get a little worried when you fall asleep," Axel said matter-of-factly, as if his reasoning should be perfectly obvious.

It wasn't obvious to Roxas. "...Why, exactly, do you worry when I fall asleep?" he asked in a tone suggesting Axel had better have a very good answer.

"Because when you fall asleep, you stop playing. And when you stop playing, the water starts rising again. Look where it is now -" he indignantly pointed to some abstract spot on the brick floor "- it's six inches higher than it was before you fell asleep."

Roxas's first impulse was to grab Axel by the shoulders and give him a good shake, yelling "_I...AM...NOT...DEMYX! GOT...IT...MEMORIZED?!_" Maybe Axel _was_ temporarily out of his mind, but being mistaken for Demyx all the time - and having to act like him to keep Axel something like balanced - was starting to wear. He choked down that impulse and said, in an icily calm tone, "Axel, either I sleep sometime or I keep going until I simply fade away. And while I'm playing myself to death through sleep deprivation, I'm going to start messing up the music and playing wrong notes, and if I did that, the water might start rising faster, or worse. That wouldn't be good either, would it?"

Axel thought about this for a moment, then grumbled a bit as he accepted "Demyx's" explanation. "Oh, all right, you don't need to get huffy about it. Fine. Get some sleep. But I'm waking you up if anything happens."

Roxas groaned and buried his head under the covers again.

* * *

When he'd first arrived in New Orleans, Zexion had thought he would never be hungry again. Now, well over 24 hours later, he barely noticed the hideous stench that had kicked him in the gut on arrival; he probably smelled that bad himself. And he was hungrier than he'd ever been. 

Well, staying at the hospital wouldn't have helped that; nobody there had had more to eat than a few cups of cold beans or tomato soup, and he'd watched some of the staff feeding themselves intravenously just so they wouldn't collapse while assisting patients. He shuddered a little at the thought. _I intend to _never_ be that hungry_, he'd thought at the time.

At dark-thirty in the morning, standing chest-deep in filthy water, holding his lexicon over his head so it wouldn't get wet, he was starting to wonder.

He'd left Tulane University Hospital on a direct path to the Superdome, but he was fairly certain he hadn't stayed on it. He'd had to keep adjusting his route slightly to keep his head above water, or to avoid a street clogged with debris, or because he thought he caught a faint scent of ocean and seahorses coming from that direction...and after Kingdom Hearts knew how many slight adjustments, he was no longer sure he was going in even the right general direction. And he couldn't check the map in his lexicon without the risk of getting it soaked.

He sighed, adjusted his grip, and kept going. _Find Nine. Go home. Eat. Rest._

* * *

There was a large bridge connecting the Superdome to a nearby mall. Thousands of people were crowded onto that bridge that morning, waiting expectantly for their deliverance from the crowded, filthy hell that was brewing inside the stadium. Surely the buses would come at 6:00 like they were supposed to. Surely the government had heard how awful things were in there and would waste no time - well, no more time than they already had - sending help. Surely, this time, FEMA would come through. 

6:00 came and went. Well, driving conditions were terrible throughout the city; it must be taking a while for the buses to find their way safely.

7:00. Those buses were taking a long time, weren't they? Most of the roads were flooded, after all.

8:00. The buses were supposed to be here at 6:00 this morning, right? Not 6:00 this evening?

By 9:00, the crowd had more-or-less decided the buses weren't coming and they'd been given the shaft once again. Demyx, who'd been lying on the concrete towards the edge of the crowd, trying to stretch out and relax a little after being kept in such cramped conditions, hastily gathered his ruined cloak and his water bottle and tried to put some distance between himself and what looked like an impending riot. People were starting to yell at the uniformed men nearby.

"Where the hell are those buses?" "They said they'd be getting us out of there today!" "I can't keep my family in there no more, look, my baby's running a fever!" "They can't ask us to live in there no more, they don't know what it's like!" "What the hell's going on - they forgot we were here?"

Someone held up one of those strange little devices that seemed so popular - Demyx had seen people talking into them, or repeating messages from them, so they must have been some form of communication. "Hey, y'all, my friend in Baton Rouge says there's only 2500 of us left in here and he's glad I'm gonna get out soon! Anyone got anything to say about that?" Everyone in the area started shouting and swearing at the hapless, misinformed person on the other end of the communicator.

_Whoever this "Fema" person is, I don't think they can really be trusted in a disaster,_ Demyx thought as he tried to work his way out of the angry crowd. _They're not sending food, not sending help, not getting people out of here..._ The people were packed almost too close together for him to move. Even when a sudden breath of cigarette smoke set him hacking again - _oh, man, make it stop, it hurts_ - no one could make much room for the young man who seemed about to cough up a lung.

"S-sorry," he choked. "I c-"

"See that?" someone yelled, pointing at him. "It's makin' people sick in there! Can't nobody breathe in that shit! If we don't get outta here soon, people are gonna start droppin' dead in there!"

"I hear there's a hundred people who've already died in there - most of 'em just died of the heat! How many more of 'em are there gonna be before those buses get here?"

"They're not coming! They don't care about us!"

"They're hopin' we all die and go away!"

Demyx was gasping for breath, trying to calm himself. His throat was raw, and he'd been coughing so hard that breathing was becoming a little painful. He looked up at the sky. _Guess I should have waited for a star..._

He looked down at his water bottle. "Dance, water, dance," he whispered, as he had the night before. Once again, the water splashed by itself - maybe even a little higher this time. He hadn't been imagining it - his powers were starting to return. Just like he'd wished for.

_The buses will come..._

* * *

Zexion couldn't catch himself this time. He stumbled and fell, splashing into the murky water and thoroughly soaking himself and his lexicon. 

He stood up, coughing and spluttering, trying to wipe the water out of his face without dropping his lexicon again. _I can't do this,_ he thought to himself. _I cannot simply keep going. Ifsobe Nine is in the Superdome at this moment, he will be evacuated well before I could possibly reach him, if he has not already been evacuated to parts unknown, and if I continue to make my way in that direction, I am going to drown. _ He waded over to a partially submerged fire escape and sat down on one of the few dry steps. Giving up on his mission entirely wasn't an option. As long as Nine was alive and his whereabouts unknown, he had to be found, and Zexion had volunteered to find him.

_And why? In Kingdom Heart's name, why? Someone else would have done just as well or better..._

Well, who, for instance? Three and Five were gone on missions of their own; Two and Four were needed at the Castle that Never Was. Eight was ill, and Thirteen was needed to take care of him. Ten was too easily distracted, in a world known as much for vice as anything, and Twelve would gladly let Nine rot. Seven and Eleven, no matter how ill, injured, or otherwise incapacitated Nine was, would likely rough him up a bit more when they found him just to teach him not to get lost. In Eleven's case, maybe more than a bit. That didn't leave a great many possibilities.

But Zexion's physical needs kept clouding his prized mental faculties. He was lost. He was starving. He was exhausted. He was filthy. He was hot. He was sweaty. He was soaked to the bone. He smelled like a pit toilet on an oil rig. He couldn't keep his hair out of his eyes. He'd been up to his chest in filthy water since hours before sunrise and he wanted _out_.

It wouldn't hurt to portal back to the World that Never Was just long enough for a shower, would it? Or a meal? Change of clothes? Maybe check the Proof of Existence again, make certain he wasn't searching for the dead?

He opened his magically undamaged lexicon to the map to regain his bearings and plot a shallower route. _After I check the Superdome._

_I can do this._

* * *

Most of the stuff Xigbar had brought on his first trip had remained untouched since Roxas unpacked it. All he'd used was the CD player; right now, he was lying on his cot letting his thoughts run free while music was pumped into his ears. 

_How long is Axel going to be like this? Will he be all right? What was in that medicine Vexen made that he won't take anymore? Was it just something to help with the symptoms, or could it have been the only thing that would save his life? What's wrong with him, anyway? Is it contagious? Is that why he couldn't stay in the Castle, and not because he kept starting fires accidentally? No, because Xigbar said the Superior didn't want anything to happen to me, and if they'd sent Axel away because he was contagious, I wouldn't have been sent with him, because then I'd be in danger of catching it...why doesn't the Superior want anything to happen to me in particular? Is it just because I'm the newest and youngest - I doubt it - or because of the Keyblades?_...His thoughts wandered along those paths until he glanced to the side and realized Axel was awake.

He switched the CD player off and removed his headphones. "See, we're both still alive." Axel muttered something under his breath. "What was that?"

"I said, that's good." Somehow, Roxas doubted it, but he didn't feel like arguing the point. "When can we get out of here?"

Roxas sat up suddenly in surprise. "What do you mean by 'when can we get out of here'?" he asked carefully, hoping Axel was wondering what he and Roxas were doing in a tent on an ice world.

"When will this storm be over? I hate sitting up here and waiting."

Roxas sighed in disappointment. "I don't know."

"Oh." Axel paused. "I'm sorry for flipping out earlier."

"It's okay. I know you don't like water."

"Okay. Um...Can I pretend you're Roxas? Just for a little while?"

"..." _I don't believe this. Can he pretend I'm _me_ for a while?!_ "...I don't mind."

"Good." Axel suddenly grabbed him and hugged him tight. Roxas squeaked a bit in surprise.

_Well, as long as he doesn't try to kiss me or anything...and as long as he lets me go before my shirt catches fire..._

* * *

In the next chapter: Roxas's job becomes a thousand times harder, and the buses are finally here...

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	9. Chapter 8: Running out

Zexion was starting to forget what being dry was like. Even after making his way to higher ground and escaping the floodwaters for the first time in this 24-hour period, the atmosphere of this world was so hot and humid there was no hope of his clothing ever drying out. And - he sniffed - he was starting to smell even worse.

He paused to remove his cloak. He seriously considered removing his boots, too, but decided he needed their protection, especially if he needed to break into any of these fancy houses. He'd made his way into a few whose doors had been torn off already, searching for food. Most of what he'd found was inedible, but he'd scavenged enough to keep himself going - he didn't need much; a handful of granola bars would do for now. Someone had left a few unopened bottles of clean water sitting on a counter as well, apparently abandoned when the family had evacuated; he'd helped himself to those as well. Food and clean water couldn't possibly make him feel better, but they certainly kept hunger and thirst from distracting him endlessly and gave him a better chance of finding Nine without collapsing. He was also making far better progress now that he wasn't up to his chest in floodwaters, which might have contributed to an optimistic spirit in a being with a heart to feel it.

He could see the Superdome, barely more than a mile distant as the crow flew. Unfortunately, his route wasn't likely to be so straight, but he'd do the best he could without risking his own safety. He'd almost certainly make it well before nightfall. And as far as he could see, there weren't any large-scale evacuation efforts going on yet. Anything suited to remove 30,000 people from a single building would be obvious even from this distance.

He wondered briefly if conditions were truly as horrific as rumor had it. _Rumor rarely has it right..._

* * *

Demyx would have punched a little kid for one of Zexion's granola bars, if any little kids in the Superdome had any. Scratch that statement; if he was that mean, he would have eaten better anyway. Thousands more people had piled into the stadium in the vain hope of getting a ride out. The food situation had gotten to the point where fights were breaking out; people were stealing food, blankets, water, anything someone else had that they needed. _If I had any sense, I'd be joining them._ He was saved from being involved in the fighting by not having anything worth stealing - just his ruined cloak and half a bottle of water, and if anybody looked funny at his water bottle, he'd cough a few times just for their benefit. 

He needed that water bottle. It was his only proof that his powers were working again. And getting his powers back was looking like his only way out. He was sure neither "Fema" nor the Organization would rescue him - "Fema" had apparently been dropping the ball right and left, and he figured he was the single most disliked Organization member next to Saix and Xemnas, and no one would dare cross either of them. Axel put up with him because he wanted to borrow his CDs, and Roxas put up with him because Axel did, and Lexaeus put up with him because Five put up with everybody, and that about covered it.

_And it's not like I'm a particularly valuable member either - Axel was right. And I'm an idiot. If I wasn't, I'd have gone back with him._ He rubbed his forehead, feeling strangely dizzy; well, the stench and lack of air could do that to anybody, and he hadn't eaten all day. And the stadium kept getting hotter - or he was running a fever. Well, his cough had been getting worse the whole time he was here; why wouldn't he be? Maybe it was the fever saying everyone hated him - or maybe it was the fever suggesting everyone didn't. Maybe he didn't have a fever, but his imagination was running away with him. Or maybe he was being honest with himself.

_I'm driving myself insane..._

How long had it been since he heard music? It had been a few days, and awful days at that. Music always distracted him when he started thinking about things that made him uncomfortable; if it would ever help, it would help now. Besides, it wasn't as if anybody could steal his sitar. He tried summoning it; all he got was a faint hissing noise and a sound like a bubble popping a yard away.

_Better than nothing. I'll get it soon._

"Dance, water, dance."

* * *

"...Where the hell am I?" 

Roxas nearly jumped out of his skin. "Axel?! You're awake?"

Axel groaned. "Unfortunately, yeah, and I feel like death in a microwave...where are we?"

Roxas hesitated a moment. "Axel...who am I?"

Axel stared in disbelief. "You need me to tell you that?!"

"I need to make sure you know."

Axel rolled his eyes. "Your name's Roxas. R-O-X-A-S. Got it memorized?"

Roxas couldn't resist the urge to jump up and hug him. "What the -"

"Axel, for the past - I don't know, three days - you've been thinking I was Demyx! I'm just thrilled you got my name right for once!"

"...Are you serious?"

"Serious as a broken neck."

Axel groaned again. "I must have been making a royal fool of myself. What the hell happened to your hair?"

Roxas shrugged. "You were sick. I'll forgive you."

"I think I still am...I set your hair on fire, didn't I."

"Yes, Axel, you sort of did."

Axel cursed. "Is that why we've been shoved out in this tent? So I wouldn't burn down the whole castle?" Roxas nodded. "Gah...I'm so hungry I could eat my pillow."

It was Roxas's turn to roll his eyes. "Vexen does one thoughtful thing for you in his entire existence, and you had to waste it. He made medicine for you and somehow blended it into ice cream, and you wouldn't eat it. I'd say it's been almost two days since you've eaten anything, and...Kingdom Hearts." Axel had suddenly leaned into the light, giving Roxas a good look at his face, and he looked _awful_.

Axel looked up in confusion. "What? Do I look that bad?"

Roxas hesitated. "Well...put it this way. Yes. You do, in fact, look like death in a microwave." Axel's eyes were still red, and his face was practically drained of color, except the tattoos and dark circles under his eyes. It didn't help his overall appearance that his skin looked like it was stretched tight over his bones. Before he could react to that statement, Roxas went over to the fridge. "Chicken sound good to you?"

"If it's not gonna run away, anything sounds good. If it does run away, it still sounds good, as long as I can kill it at a distance and have you go get it for me."

Roxas looked. "I'm not sure, but I don't think this chicken's gonna run." He took it out of the refrigerator and popped it into the microwave. "So...how are you feeling?"

"Like death in a microwave, got it memorized? I think I mentioned it before." The microwave dinged a few moments later, and Axel had no trouble accepting the dish Roxas could barely hold onto with his bare hands. "Did...Demyx ever come back?"

Roxas glanced away. "Eat first. You need the food."

"That means no." Axel ate ravenously but mechanically. "Is he still alive, at least? Is anybody out there looking for him?"

"Zexion is. The Superior had me talk to him before he left. And - I guess he's still alive...Xigbar's been here every day to check up on us; I think he'd have mentioned it if he wasn't..."

"You think." Axel took the last bite of chicken and promptly set the dish on fire. "You don't know."

Roxas took a step back. "Axel, calm down. He'll come back soon. Either Zexion will find him or he'll make it back on his own."

"I don't think that little runt could find his ass with both hands if it wasn't in a book. And what if he can't come back on his own? What if he's just as sick as I was? What if he's hurt? What if he got knocked upside the head so badly he doesn't remember his own name?"

Roxas sighed. "Why are you so worried about him?"

Axel scowled. "Because I treated him like shit and he saved my life. If I were him, I'd have let me die. I want to know why he didn't."

"Axel, he'll come back! Don't make yourself sick again worrying about it!" There was a smoldering look in those glass-green eyes that was starting to frighten Roxas. "The best thing you can do right now is just rest and recover - it's only been a few days - you don't know - AXEL!"

Ignoring the blond's protests entirely, Axel simply stood up, created a portal, and disappeared. Roxas was left standing open-mouthed in the middle of the tent.

* * *

_Sss-pop._

_Even closer than last time. I'll be able to soon._ Demyx had been trying to summon his sitar all day, mostly to keep himself from thinking too hard. It wasn't completely successful. _I wonder if anyone wonders what happened to me. Are they thinking "Thank Kingdom Hearts, he's gone" or "Oh, well, it was only Nine" or "I wonder what happened to Nine, I kind of miss him" or "Hey, pass the potatoes!"_ He had a sudden mental image of Axel sitting at the dinner table saying "I wonder what ever happened to Demyx...ooh, look, potatoes!" Depressing as the image was, he couldn't help but giggle. It made his throat and chest hurt worse than they already did, but he was getting pretty used to the pain. It wasn't like he could get medicine for it - there wasn't any.

_Sss-pop!_ Better and better. Once he was able to summon his instrument, that would mean he had enough power to make a portal back home. It shouldn't take more than a few days at this rate. It wouldn't be long. He'd been here for a few days already, surely he could withstand a few more...just a few more days of the crowds - and the noise - and the heat - and the smell - and the hunger - and the sense that no one gave a damn whether he lived or died - of being alone - of being forgotten - worthless - _he was nothing, after all..._

"Hey! The buses! The buses are finally here!"

Demyx didn't think twice. He grabbed his cloak and water bottle and ran for daylight. _I don't care where they're going! Just get me _out of here!

* * *

Zexion had been forced back into the flooded area en route to the Superdome, but the water was much shallower here compared to what he'd waded through earlier. He was only up to his calves, this time, and his destination was only growing closer. 

He sniffed. Over the endless smell of crude oil and sewage, he thought he could smell - maybe - ocean and seahorses - Nine...

And...diesel. _Diesel?!_

He looked up sharply. Tiny, but clearly visible in front of the Superdome, were a group of vehicles that each looked large enough to carry fifty or more people in reasonable comfort.

_The evacuation...it's begun._

Throwing caution to the wind, Zexion took off running. If Nine was in the Superdome, and was sent off on one of those buses, there was little hope of ever finding him. If he was incapable of making his own way back - if he was desperately ill, or badly injured, or had forgotten who he was...

_Do not think about those possibilities. Do not think about failure. Think about reaching the Superdome before those buses leave._ Zexion was absolutely focused on his goal, barely noticing his surroundings. The water was getting a little deeper, and his chest was starting to burn, but he had to keep going, could not let Nine be carried off, could not risk - "_Unh!_"

The last thing he noticed before splashdown was a strong scent of silver and pears.

Zexion stood up, dripping, and hastily retrieved his cloak and lexicon. "Thirteen - what in Kingdom Heart's name -"

* * *

In the next chapter: I love it when a plotline comes together. 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	10. Chapter 9: He's in the French quarter

Roxas scrambled to his feet, shaking off water. "Zex - Six - I am so glad to see you -"

If looks could kill, Roxas's Proof of Existence would have been glowing red. "Thirteen..._what_ are you _doing_ here?" Zexion was panting, as if he'd been running at full speed before the collision. "Aren't you supposed to be...in Ecitor, looking after Eight?"

"Ecitor? Is that what that world was called?" Roxas shook his head. "Eight's run away."

Zexion nearly dropped his lexicon again. "Eight has done_ what?!_"

Roxas took a deep breath. "He's been completely out of it for a few days - just remembered who, what, and where he was today. He wanted to know almost as soon as he woke up whether or not Nine had returned. When I told him no, he started getting angry - he portaled away while I was telling him to calm down. I just guessed he came here to look for Nine. He's still not really well - I'm afraid he's going to make himself worse."

Zexion shook his head. "What...an...idiot. All right. Do you see that stadium over there?" He pointed at the Superdome. "Tens of thousands of people have been sheltering in that stadium since the storm, and I believe Nine is one of them. The structure is being evacuated, and the people sent to other cities on this world, or even to other worlds. Do you see those vehicles in front? If Nine gets into one of them - presuming he cannot or will not return to us on his own, which seems likely, as he hasn't yet - we'll find all our hearts before we ever find him again. Thirteen, help me find Nine as soon as possible and then I will help you find Eight."

It was an easy decision for Roxas. "All right...sure you don't want to wait until you catch your breath?"

Zexion nodded. "Reasonably certain." He took off running towards the Superdome, with Roxas hot on his heels.

* * *

Demyx was singing to himself - something he hadn't done since he'd arrived in New Orleans. "Don't let go - you got the music in you! One more dance - this world is gonna pull through! Don't give up - you got a reason to live! Can't forget - you only get what you give!" He was happy enough to dance along and strange looks be damned, if he'd had room. _Finally, I am getting a chance to get _out_ of that hellhole!_ He spun around on his heel, just because he could. Even though it was obvious he wouldn't be on the first few buses to leave - the crowd was just too huge - he was slowly working his way towards the front with a combination of agility and well-timed pathetic coughs, in the hopes of getting out in the first few trips or so. _Who knows? If I wind up going someplace interesting, I might stay there for a few days after I recover._

He spun around again, but this time, his foot caught on something or other and he wound up taking a hard seat on the ground. The water bottle he'd been keeping with him for three days bounced out of his hand and rolled away. He reached out to retrieve it...and somebody stepped on his hand.

"_Ow!_" He yelped and snatched his hand back, stuffing it under his other arm. He looked up at the people around him - people he'd nearly fallen on ten seconds ago. Someone murmured an apology; Demyx couldn't see who. Giving his water bottle up as a lost cause, he sighed and picked himself up off the ground with his uninjured hand.

"Some days I get the impression that life's just waiting for another chance to step on me while I'm dancing," he muttered.

"Don't we all, kid," someone replied. "It's gone and trampled us all already." Not a single person disagreed.

Demyx sighed. _But I seem to keep dancing anyway..._

* * *

Roxas and Zexion stopped dead in their tracks as one of the buses pulled away from the Superdome. "What do we do now?" Roxas whispered. 

"Well, if there are any gods that look after Nobodies, we could pray that Nine wasn't on that bus, or that if he was we somehow manage to follow him...or we could continue as we have been. I suggest the latter." Zexion followed his own advice, with barely a moment's pause for breath. Roxas did as well...but he paused long enough to take the first suggestion too.

* * *

_Idiot..._

_Crazy..._

_Every word that comes out of your mouth sounds crazy to me..._

_Got it memorized?_

_Not like you're going to succeed..._

Axel clutched at his head, staggering against the side of a building. _What the hell am I doing here? Why didn't I listen to Roxas?_ Jumping up and running after Demyx had made so much sense to his fever-addled brain fifteen minutes ago. Now, his entire body was protesting, especially his head, and there wasn't much he could do. He had no idea what world he and Roxas had been shipped off to; he'd never be able to find his way back without help. Roxas was probably tearing the rest of his hair out. And sick as he was, he didn't have a snowball's chance of finding Demyx. He'd be lucky to make it out alive himself.

People were making their way through the debris-covered street, breaking windows and doors, forcing their way into buildings. Some emerged with arms full of food and other basic supplies, some carried out televisions and fancy furniture and other luxury items that would be completely useless in the ruined city. Axel barely noticed any of them, and most of them returned the favor, assuming he'd been looting a liquor store or something. As long as he wasn't in their way, no one cared.

Well, one person did. Noticing the redhead slumped against the wall, he set down his newly acquired stereo and drew a gun.

"That's a pretty snazzy coat you got there, man. Designer, I bet. Think it'd fit me real well."

Axel just stared at him. The man frowned. "Hey. You drunk or just stupid? I said give me that coat you got on. Stand up." Axel stood up, his eyes never leaving the man. "So you're not a total idiot. All right, now take that coat off and hand it - hey..._what the fuck?!_"

* * *

Roxas scrambled onto the plaza where the buses had been, and where a huge crowd was still gathered. "...I hope it's a while before any more buses come, because it's going to take us forever to find Demyx in all these people...Six, are you okay?" 

Zexion was breathing raggedly, clutching his side. "I...will be...I'm just...out of...breath..."

"Do you want me to go in there looking for Nine?" Roxas took a hesitant step towards the crowd.

"No." Zexion held up a hand. "Just...hold on." He opened his lexicon and carefully tore out a page with Demyx's picture on it, which somehow regenerated as soon as it left the book. "Take this. And...you may need...some assistance."

Suddenly, Roxas was surrounded by Zexions. The real one - the only one who was sitting down or without a cloak - almost smiled. "Now the search...can begin."

* * *

Zexion closed his eyes and lay back, focusing his mind on those of his clones. He had the ability to hear through their ears, and see - somewhat - through their eyes, though if he accidentally focused on more than one at a time, the effect was quite disorienting. Almost a pity he couldn't do the same with Thirteen, though Thirteen was far more capable of independent thought than a clone and would have sense enough to bring Nine back without being explicitly ordered to do so. 

He focused on each clone in turn, as they worked through the crowd asking people if they had seen "my older brother - here's a picture of him".

"Nope, doesn't look familiar." "Can't say I have - think I'd remember that hair." "I've never seen anybody with eyes like that..." "Was he wearing a coat like yours?" "I saw a guy like that on Monday, said his name was Dennis...he looked like one of the Brown Men, 'cept made of flesh and blood instead of water...I tried to take his pulse, and he didn't have none - I figure he must have been an angel or somethin'!" "Yeah, I saw him, he almost ran into my brother...does he play sitar? 'Cause he told me he did when I offered to play some for him..." "I saw him on the bridge Thursday mornin' when the buses were supposed to get here...he started coughin' and someone pointed to him and said 'Look, people are getting sick in there'..." "I think my son stepped on his hand fifteen minutes ago..." "Zexion! _Zexion!_"

* * *

Demyx continued to work his way to the front of the crowd, even as the buses began to fill up and pull away. The damage to his hand was the last straw - he needed that hand to play, dammit! If there were any spaces left on any of the remaining buses, he wanted one, and if not, he wanted on the next bus to arrive; if he was still trapped in this crowd when his powers recovered fully, someone was going to drown. 

So close to freedom, the people crowded around were even less receptive to someone else trying to sneak through; he dodged elbows, curses, and the occasional fist, not always successfully. Finally, he reached a point where the crowd was packed so tightly he couldn't find a way through. Sighing, he stood on tiptoe in the hopes of seeing a way through the mass of people - and he caught a glimpse of a child-size figure with silver-blue hair and a dark cloak.

The world spun around him for a moment.

"Zexion! _Zexion!_" Once he got his balance back, he started working his way away from the buses, towards where he'd seen the other Nobody. He was shaky with disbelief. _Someone came...someone cared... _

* * *

Zexion jerked upright when he heard his own name through his clone's ears. "Nine?" he whispered aloud. His concentration broken, he hastily tried to refocus on whichever clone that had been...but he hadn't been paying enough attention; it could have been any of them. Gritting his teeth, he tried to see through their eyes, one at a time, having them stop and look around. Seeing was more difficult than hearing, and he'd probably do better to wait and listen for Nine to call his name again, but - 

Ah. There. Someone in the crowd was moving away from the buses and freedom, and towards the clone whose eyes he was using. It had to be Nine.

_Nine has seen you, _he whispered in the clone's mind. _ Go meet him, he will be coming from that direction, and when you meet him, bring him to me. _ There was no verbalized response, just a notion of assent from the clone.

* * *

Demyx was shoving his way through the crowd now, calling Zexion's name all the while. People willingly got out of his way when they saw his face, rather than risk being run over. _Where is he?...I wish he wasn't so short...did I really see him?_

A small hand suddenly reached out from the crowd and seized his with remarkable strength. "This way," Zexion said in an unusually flat voice, even for him. He started running, dragging Demyx behind him, somehow penetrating the crowd far more easily than the taller man had.

"Hey - wait a sec - Zexion - where are you - what - hey - wait - slow down!"

* * *

Roxas was likewise abruptly jerked off-balance by a Zexclone. He didn't even have the chance to squawk in protest before being dragged away at top speed. _What in Kingdom Hearts' name is he_ doing?! 

They twisted and dodged through the crowd, with so many near misses and narrow escapes that eventually Roxas just covered his eyes and let the Zexclone lead the way, praying - just in case there were any gods that looked after Nobodies - that they'd stop before they both broke their necks. It wouldn't matter much to the clone, who'd be dispersed by the real Zexion anyway, but it certainly mattered to Roxas.

He stumbled and fell flat on his face as he suddenly found himself holding on to nothing at all. Somebody laughed; it sounded half like a cough. "Hi, Roxas!"

"Thirteen. Kind of you to join us." He looked up. Demyx and Zexion were standing there looking at him; Demyx was grinning like an idiot and trying to keep himself from coughing, Zexion had that strange half-smile he wore when he had some trouble remembering he couldn't feel happiness or amusement.

"Demyx...nice shirt. 'Love Potion #9'?"

Demyx shrugged, as if he hadn't heard the slightly sardonic tone of those words. "It's just what I happened to be wearing under my cloak when I got here..."

"I'll bet." Roxas stood up, brushing himself off. "Why didn't you come back?"

Demyx coughed again, looking a little sheepish. "I burned out."

"Well, then, why didn't you just wait until you were rescued? Why did you try to get on one of those buses? If you'd left, we'd never have found you!"

Demyx looked at the ground, slightly embarrassed. "I...didn't expect anyone to rescue me. I didn't think anyone cared enough."

Zexion sighed. "...Fortunately for you, you may have the opposite problem. And I had hoped your powers would prove useful if and when we found Eight."

Demyx's eyes widened. "What, he didn't come back?!"

"He...did...but..." Roxas hesitated. "It's a long story. What you really need to know is I think he came back to this world a little while ago to look for you, and I don't think he's really 'with it'."

Demyx swallowed hard and looked away. "...I think he's in the French Quarter," he said softly after a moment.

Zexion looked at him sharply. "What makes you believe so?"

Demyx pointed at a rising column of dark smoke. "That."

* * *

In the next chapter: Psycho Axel is scary. 

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. And I don't own "You Get What You Give", which is what Demyx was singing earlier. That belongs to the New Radicals. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	11. Chapter 10: Demons and angels

_"That's a pretty snazzy coat you got there, man. Designer, I bet. Think it'd fit me real well."_

Axel stared at the man, rage suddenly flaring in his chest. _You...arrogant...bastard...how dare you..._

The man frowned. _"Hey. You drunk or just stupid? I said give me that coat you got on. Stand up."_

_Come here...treat me...like a dog...show a weapon...try to frighten me...you'll be sorry...you ever saw me..._

He stood up slowly.

"_So you're not a total idiot. All right, now take that coat off and hand it - hey..._what the fuck?!"

Axel grinned maniacally as the disputed coat burst into flames.

"Now...just how badly do you want it?"

* * *

Demyx winced as he stepped into the water. "Nine, are you actually afraid of the water? I would think that, water being your element -" 

"It is. But I prefer _clean_ water as much as anyone. This crap is _nasty_." But unless the three Nobodies could find a boat sometime soon - like before the entire French Quarter went up in flames - they would have to wade. Roxas had been the only one not actively dreading the experience, at least until he saw how uncomfortable Demyx and Zexion were.

Nasty as the water was, it was still water, and Demyx couldn't help but feel more comfortable than he thought he should. In fact, he could almost have relaxed if not for that dark cloud hanging over one of his favorite parts of the world. He grimaced and waded on. _Maybe I'll be able to do something about those fires even if my powers aren't quite working yet..._

"Nine, do be so kind as to hold yourself to a pace we can maintain." He turned around. Roxas and Zexion, who were not only shorter than he was but less agile in the water, were getting left in his wake.

"Oh...um...sorry about that..." He tried to slow himself down so they could catch up with him. That pace lasted all of five minutes.

"Demyx, you're still going too fast." Roxas had gained only a little ground; Zexion, who was hampered by his lexicon, had lost even more.

Demyx sighed. "Would it help if I walked behind you two?"

"It might." He held still until the shorter Nobodies had passed him, then continued at their pace, even though he found it uncomfortably slow. That lasted about seven minutes.

_Splush!_

Demyx fished Zexion out of the water. "You know, I think I have a better idea..."

The silver-haired Nobody looked at his soaking lexicon distastefully. "Do tell...what the - wait - Nine, put me down! Thirteen, stop laughing!"

Demyx looked back at Roxas, who looked like he couldn't have stopped laughing if it meant turning into a Dusk. "Try not to trip over anything, okay? Because I can't carry you both."

* * *

"Do not _ever_ think you can fuck with me and get away with it, got it memorized?" Axel, still blazing merrily, advanced slowly on the would-be mugger, who'd dropped his gun and was now backing away unsteadily. _He's wet his pants. Pathetic._ "Would you still like my coat? Because I'd be perfectly happy to give it to you," he said in a mock-conciliatory tone, extending one fiery hand towards the man. 

The mugger turned tail and fled, screaming. Axel actually laughed at him. Right now, surrounded by his element, he was feeling far better than he had in a long time. He stared challengingly at the rest of the people in the street. _Looters. Thieves. Ragtag._ "Well, if he doesn't want it, do any of you do?"

Another man pointed a gun at him; Axel could see his hand was shaking so badly there wasn't a snowball's chance he was in real danger. "G-get away from here, d-demon!"

"Oh, you think I'm a demon, do you? Well, I'm so _flattered..._" Wheels of fire appeared in Axel's hands, eventually resolving into his chakra. He barely noticed the building behind him suddenly ignite.

* * *

Demyx sped up as best he could as another column of smoke appeared over the French Quarter. Zexion squirmed a bit, but not dangerously. "Nine, drop me and I _will_ turn you into a Dusk." 

"Trust me, I'm not going to drop you...unless you squirm too much and make me lose my grip."

Zexion glared at him, but held still. "Why this sudden hurry?"

"Axel's set another fire. Look." Roxas, wading along behind them, pointed at the smoke ahead. He sped up too, shaking his head. "Oh, this is bad."

Zexion sighed. "Nine, you're a strong swimmer; you can swim faster than any of us can wade...if you could possibly stoop to swimming in this water, why not put me down and do so?"

Demyx stopped suddenly. "Because I have no idea what sort of garbage I might run into when I can't see a foot in front of me?" he said, as if it was so obvious the question didn't need to be asked. "Why aren't we all walking around blindfolded?"

Zexion thought about that for a moment. "Then why don't you put me down and simply wade on ahead, as you've already proven yourself faster than either of us at that?"

"And leave you two here?"

"The fires, Nine. How much of this world do you want Eight to incinerate?"

Roxas nodded solemnly. "Either he's lost control or he's lost his mind. We'll catch up to you eventually."

"All right..." Demyx set Zexion down carefully. "See you two in a bit." He splashed off at as close to a run as he could manage.

* * *

Axel was grinning madly as the terrified looters edged away or fled his presence entirely, or tried to put on shows of bravery. After days of living through hell in his mind, topped off by this crushing disappointment in recovery - and then having some idiot point a gun at him and demand his cloak, for _lagniappe_ - he had pretty well snapped. Relying on the flames surrounding him to keep his drained body energized, the Flurry of Dancing Flames was living up to his name, twisting and whirling and spreading fire and havoc. He'd set two buildings ablaze so far without sparing a thought for either of them, and was about to put a third to the torch. 

"What did I tell you people about guns?" he lectured yet another hapless man who'd thought firearms would stop him, and flung his chakram at the man's head. "No gunplay, got it memorized?" He missed on purpose - he hadn't lost his mind so completely as that - but it didn't concern him in the least that where his weapon bounced off, the wall started to burn.

_Maybe next time I shouldn't miss. _

* * *

Demyx gulped as another pillar of smoke rose into the air. "Axel...whatever's wrong with you..." _I hope you don't kill anybody. Or burn down what's left of the city._

_And please don't hurt yourself. Or me._

He was running faster now - he was out of the water. His chest burned as he breathed in smoke - he choked back a cough - couldn't stop now - he could see the flames - feel the heat - saw the frightened people - the flaming man in the center of it all - _Axel's lost his mind - don't let him destroy the city - I tried too hard - not for nothing_ - he reached up - pulled his sitar out of the air like it was the most natural thing in the world...

"_Dance, water, dance!_"

For the synthetic half-assed life of him, he had no idea why he'd yelled that particular phrase. But it worked.

Axel yelled as he was doused with several gallons of water, completely quenching the flames that wreathed his body. As if a spell had been broken, most of the remaining people chose that moment to take to their heels. The few who remained were watching Demyx with undisguised awe and admiration. Axel, on the other hand, glared at him with raw hatred for a few moments, prepared to throw his weapon - to kill, this time...and sank to the ground.

* * *

Almost as soon as they'd gotten clear of the water, Zexion had taken off running, leaving a startled Roxas behind him. After a moment wasted standing around blinking like an idiot, Roxas followed him, but the older Nobody had long since gotten his wind back and was leaving him in the dust. Zexion must have known this part of the city like the back of his hand, because Roxas was being led through alleys and gaps he wouldn't have guessed existed if the Schemer hadn't dodged through them first. 

Suddenly the silver-haired Nobody stopped short, and Roxas almost cannoned into him. "What did you stop for?"

"Letting you catch up." Zexion sniffed the air. "This way."

* * *

_Oh, great...I didn't kill him, did I? _ He raced over to the Flurry's side. "Axel?" he said, giving him a slight shake. "Are you all right?" 

Axel's eyes fluttered open. "...Demyx? Is it really you...or am I just imagining you?"

Demyx smiled slightly. "Nope. It's me. The real thing."

"...You son of a bitch."

Demyx blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Axel slowly forced himself upright. "You have no idea...what I went through...because of you..."

Demyx took a step backwards and tightened his grip on his sitar as flames began to swirl, enveloping Axel's body once more. "Axel...what are you talking about?"

The mad Flurry -_ Kingdom Hearts, he looks like a demon_ - raised his weapons. "Why don't I explain..."

* * *

A sudden puff of smoke made Roxas start coughing. He slowed, trying to regain his breath. Zexion reversed course just long enough to grab his hand and start dragging him along. "No slowing down, Thirteen. If Eight is so unbalanced as to commit random acts of violence on a whim, and Nine has only weak control over his element -" 

Roxas sped up, lest his arm be jerked out of its socket. "But maybe he hasn't lost it - maybe he's in a fight - maybe he's lost control of his powers -"

"The fires, Thirteen! If Eight is causing them, we can wait to learn the reason!"

"But he wouldn't hurt Demyx...I mean, he's been worrying about him this whole time..."

"We can find out when we reach them!" Roxas guessed that meant "shut up and kept running".

* * *

"Three days I spent trapped in that storm with you...in my own head..." Axel slashed at Demyx in a way that would have torn his throat open from either side if the Melodious Nocturne hadn't ducked. "Three days in Hell..." 

"Why did you come back?" Demyx asked in a strangled voice, backing away from the slowly advancing madman.

"I wanted to find you..." _Slash. _ "I wanted to know..." _Swish._ "Why you saved me."

"What?!"

"I called you a coward...a weakling...a failure...but when it all went to Hell around us, I was the coward. You were the brave one. And then...when I try to return the favor...turns out I'm the weakling as well." The flames around him intensified. "But not now."

Demyx found himself backed into a wall. He reached for the strings of his sitar, but Axel knocked it out of his hands.

"Why didn't you do what I'm about to do?"

He raised his chakra over his head, ready to strike a killing blow...but his weapons were blocked by a pair of Keyblades.

Roxas's face was ghostly white. "Axel, what are you _doing?!_"

The chakra wavered. "R-Roxas?..."

"A-Axel, stop! Think for a second!"

Axel did stop, and stared, his mouth hanging wide open. The chakra fell to the ground, and a moment later, so did he, the flames engulfing him flickering out. "What am I _doing?_" he whispered.

"You are kneeling in the debris-covered streets of the French Quarter of New Orleans, completely naked, a moment ago you were hell-bent on killing a man who saved your life earlier this week, and five minutes ago I daresay you were gleefully putting empty buildings to the torch and threatening helpless passerby. Quite amazing for supposedly being too ill to walk by yourself." Zexion was always mercilessly honest. "What _did_ happen to your clothing? Did you incinerate it all?"

"Shut up," Axel muttered, curling defensively into a ball.

Demyx shakily retrieved his sitar. "...So...um...are you going to try to kill me again?"

"No." Axel left it at that.

Roxas unsummoned his Keyblades and went to help him up. "I'm sorry, Axel," he whispered.

"You shouldn't be...if it weren't for you, this would have been really bad. Just...you're not allowed to disappear, got it memorized?"

Roxas smiled weakly and shook his head. "I don't want to know how crazy you'd go if I disappeared."

Axel sat up stiffly, holding his aching head with one hand and covering himself with the other. "...I could really use some clothes."

"Well, if you promise you're not going to go apeshit on me again..." Demyx was still regarding Axel warily. "I guess I could let you borrow my old robes." He held out the folded garment.

Axel took it gingerly. "It smells like death and toilets...where have you been?"

"I've been in Hell, Axel. Hell in a stadium." His face had never been so serious.

"...Oh," Axel said weakly. He stood up, leaning heavily on Roxas, and pulled on the tattered, ill-fitting robe. "But...still...why do you do things like that?" he asked helplessly.

"...Do what?"

Axel stared. "You don't get it. You really don't get it."

"Axel..." Roxas said warningly.

The redhead shook his head. "No, it's okay. If he doesn't know what I'm talking about...I might as well leave it."

Demyx was baffled. "Seriously, what _are_ you talking about?"

Roxas pulled Axel's head in a little closer. "Axel, if it had been me, would you be surprised?"

"Well, no, but you're my best friend..."

_"I...didn't expect anyone to rescue me. I didn't think anyone cared enough."_

Roxas looked over at Demyx, who was still staring at Axel in utter confusion. "I'm not jealous - you're allowed to have other friends."

* * *

In the next chapter: _Laissez les bons temps rouler, entendu?_

Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities.


	12. Epilogue:  Why I stayed behind

"You've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?"

"Not long enough, or I'd have made you all wear masks!" Demyx rubbed a finger along the bottom edge of his blue-and-silver domino, still sporting a crazy grin. "I saw this red one at the shop that I think you would have looked spectacular in..."

"Should it worry me that I actually find that kind of tempting?"

Demyx punched Axel lightly in the shoulder. "Absolutely not. That just means this place is getting to you. _Laissez les bons temps rouler!_"

Axel thought hard for a moment. "...I'll be right back." He disappeared into the crowd.

"...Well, that was clever," Roxas said. "Think he'll ever find us again?"

"Oh, yeah. And if he doesn't - well, he's six-foot-seven or so and has almost freakishly red hair. Even if he can't find us, I'll bet we can still find him."

Roxas fingered the strings of beads around his neck. "If he gets lost, I'm not going to go looking for him again!"

Zexion nodded. He had somehow maintained his attitude of aloof solemnity. "There's an experience I don't care to repeat."

"Ah, stop worrying, you two. I don't think he's going to go around setting things on fire today." Demyx toyed with a gold-painted coconut, pretending to crack it over Roxas's head. "You wanted to know why I stayed behind - well, you're seeing it!"

"What, the parades?"

"The entire thing, Roxas! Mardi Gras!" Demyx spread his arms wide. Zexion had to duck a waving coconut. "That's what I hauled you all back here for! It's the biggest party in the worlds! This is just the end of it, unfortunately. It started over a month ago."

Roxas tried and failed to imagine the wreck of a city he'd seen before turning into one huge party for an entire month. "Mind-boggling," Zexion said, echoing his thoughts. "This city was nearly destroyed the last time we were here."

Demyx winked. "Can't keep a good world down." Roxas was about to sock him for that pun when Axel returned, sporting a blazing red-and-gold mask that could be seen down the block.

"There you guys are!" He grinned at them. "How's it look?"

"Um..." Roxas was at a loss for words. "Stunning!"

"Glad you like it, because I got one for you too!" Axel suddenly produced a gold-and-silver domino and popped it onto Roxas's face before the blond had any time to protest.

Demyx giggled. "That looks good! Of course, now poor Zexion is the only one without a mask on."

"I have no problem with that!" Zexion cut in hastily.

"That's a shame, because I got you one at the same time." The silver-haired Nobody stared at Axel as though he'd just sprouted a third arm as the redhead extracted a third mask from his pocket and offered it to him. "Put it on; it's not gonna bite."

Zexion took the mask as if he was expecting it to do exactly that. It was a simple black velvet mask, without so much as a hint of feathers or sequins. "Well...I suppose it's not nearly so..._ostentatious_ as any of yours..." Reluctantly, he slid it over his face and rearranged his hair over it.

Roxas, still fiddling with his newly acquired mask, wondered how Demyx could keep smiling like that without his face starting to hurt. "You like it?"

"It's questionable, Nine." But Zexion wasn't moving to take the mask off.

"Good! You're getting into it! Even a little!"

"_Laissez les bons temps rouler_ - got it memorized?" Axel picked up a handful of beads left on the sidewalk from the last parade and looped them around his neck. "...What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Demyx didn't stop laughing before the Rex Parade started rolling by, so he never got an answer.

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_Fin._ Let the good times roll.

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If you've managed to read the entire story all the way to the end, first, congratulations, you're a hardy soul, and second, please review, because you'll make the author's day. Ten chapters, plus prologue and epilogue - not bad for a first fic.

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Disclaimer: If you think I own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters therein, there's something wrong with you. I don't own New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina either. If I did own Hurricane Katrina, I'd try to get rid of it as soon as possible. And not by throwing it at poorly-defended coastal cities. 


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